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; SHR ;l >ld and nkw

A.Ni FR I'ul.Ms

THOMAS HEVf-i

' AKMKK U.C L.

T'lRliN-rr.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

AND OTHER POEMS

THOMAS DEVEY JERMYN FARMER, D.C.L.

TORONTO

WILLIAM BRIGGS

1913

*7 5T

152939

Copyrisht, Canada, 1913, by
Thomas devet jxrhtn FAaHKR

TO THE MEMORY

CJlrnw lUnatrimtB CJmo

WBO

"OAZIKO ON NATURE'S NAKED LOVELINESS" AND

FOLLOWING HER IN SINGLENESS OF HEART

REVIVED AND RESTORED THE PURITY OP ENOLISH POETRY

AND WHOSE DUST FOREVER HALLOWS
TESTACCIO'S HILL AT ROME.

AN OBSCURE AND UNWORTHY DISCIPLE

DEDICATES

THESE HUMBLE EFFORTS

PREFACE

The following stanzas entitled " SHRiNes Old
AND New," and many of the short poems which
follow, were hurriedly put into verse form with
little or no intention of publication, during a trip
through South- Western Europe with my family, in
191 1-12. They are made up of daily casual thoughts
and ideas which arose h-.ore me, or of incidents
which occurred as I travelled, and of impressions
formed concerning some of the social, political, and
historical conditions of the people with whom, and
the places where, 1 happened to be when I wrote
them.

Incidentally the larger work refers to the lives
works, characters, and last resting-places of many
of the English, and a few of the other European
poets.

No particular effort was made to select for my
theme, as I gathered it together, scenes or personages

PREFACE

of momentous importance, so that while some of
the matters, places and individuals referred to here
will be of world-wide repute and interest, others will
be merely local, and of no public or general concern.

Wherever I have touched upon social or political
conditions as they occurred to me at the time, I have
endeavored to be as fair in my critici ti of one class
of society, or of the body politic, as of the other,
and have tried to show with impartiality the weak-
nesses and errors of each extreme of thought as I
saw them. And where conditions existed that were
to my mind foreign to the genius of a free people,
or out of touch with the modem spirit of our times,
I have not hesitated to condemn, and, to the best of
my power, to expose them.

I fear that there may be here and there found in
these pages what the kindly critic may term " plati-
tude," or what the less indulgent and more relent-
less one may place in the even worse category of
" farrago," or " banality " ; that the language may
be found commonpla:e, and the literary effort and
finish lacking in that spontaneity, brilliancy and
depth of thought which make for true poetry. It
may be, too, that a lack of continuity may be de-
6

PREFACE

tected in places in the larger poem, and that it may
be condemned by the exacting reader on the ground
of transiliency. My only excuse for all these failings
must be that most of what now appears for the first
'me m print was hastily and disconnectedly written
"along the way," as it were, with many interrup-
tions, httle if any quiet, no bibliothecal assistance,
and with many counter-attractions to divert the
mmd. Usually the thoughts of the day were hur-
riedly gathered up the same night, and took the form
of a stanza carelessly put together the next morn-
ing, and thus it has remained until now.

In "Shrines Old and ''Tew " I have adopted the
Spenserian nine-line stanza, a foim used by the most
famous Italian poets, by Lord Bvron in "Childe
Harold," also by Shelley and Thomson, and some
others of the best English poets; although, on the
other hand, ridiculed in verse by Pope. Admitting,
as It does, of every variety of thought— the droll, the
pathetic, the descriptive, the sentimental, the tender
or the satirical— I deemed it the best adapted and the
easiest adjusted to a work like this, which of neces-
sity spreads itself over many regions, includes such a
variety of subject, incident, person and locality, and
7

PREFACE

necMsitates, too, such frequent and sudden leaps
from one particular line of thought to an entirely
different one.

An apology may also be in order here to the
reader for the great length of "Shrines Old and
New," and for the inclusion of such an apparent
medley of subject-matter under one title. The aim
of modem writers is, I know, to be brief if they
wish to be popular, but a glance at the index will
show tl«it each subject dwelt upon in the major poem
appears there under a separate heading, and thus can
be readily found without necessitating what might
prove to be a tedious perusal of the whole work.

Some of my friends have flattered me by saying
that my verses (with the illustrations I have gathered
as I travelled) are worthy of publication, so I have
yielded to the temptation to embody the long poem
along with some of my shorter efforts in the form
of a volume.

Whatever frailties and blemishes in thought and
diction or in literary and artistic finish (and they are
many) the work may contain, I hope the critic will
overlook. To the pedestal of the lofty and accom-
plished poet deeply versed in the lore of the classics
8

PREFACE

and of mythology, and in the romance of medixval
times— whose life-e£Forts have been chiefly or entirely
devoted to the m-ise, and who has been crowned with
success and fame, and the applause and reverence
of his fellows— I dare not presume, and cannot hope
to attain. The vicissitudes and cares, the worries
and exactions, of a busy but all the time to me soul-
starving and distasteful professional life, have, no
doubt, left their traces in a paucity of poetic thought
and language and a narrowness of poetic vision, and
have prevented the full development of any smiU
talent which might have been inherent in me for
litenry study or poetic pursuits, until a very recent
period, and one usually too late in life to allow of
much being accomplished along the present lines.

And so, if I have here and there clothed some old
but imperishable truth in a new dress, or expressed
some simple thought in befitting language, if I may
have struck some happy expression, some har-
monious chord, or if any of my readers may find
somewhere between the covers of this little book
some ennobling or inspiring sentiment, some vivid
historical description, some appropriate word-paint-
ing, some high ideal outlined, some chaste or grace-

PREFACE

ful imager, . or even some faint suggestion of any-
thing pertaining to the lofty, the grand or the subhme
in life and will with charity overlook my many
shortcomings for the rest, I will feel with gratitude
that my feeble efforts and aims have not gone
entirely unrewarded.

T. D. J. F.

Wmning, Novtmbtr, m'-

PR^•.^•^c^.

fiii ii!ii(K»T>, ■'• rvrti v.niir ftMit sit);(;''ition of any-
thiin; [M-rtaiiiint; m tlif l..fl\ tin uraml or the mitilitiir
'II lite, and will with cHanf verl.iok my many
>lii>iio>niinKs fur the rest, i wiU twi wuh gratitude
that my feeble efforts .mil aims Uiv i..| kdiic
entirelv iinrewardeil.

T. U.J. I'.

H'inmftg. Sotfr^ir. IVI''

CONTENTS

_ , PACK

Preface

SHRINES OLD AND NEW.
Canada ...

North Shore of Uke Superior, Muskoka, etc - . ai
Barrie ...

Toronto - - . .

"... 2*

Wentworth Scenery . - ._ . . _ ^

The Beauties and Truths of Nature - - . . 30

Ottawa and Montreal - . . .

Quebec ' ^

The Ocean .... " " " 3i

- 3»

Th« Is« of Man ...

- 36

Ekgiand— - . . . .

First Impressions from the Train . - . . „

I^ndon

Its Many Peoples, Attractions and Mighty Commerce 2

Westminster Abbey

The Coronation . . . . _
Goldsmith, Johnson and Ye Old Cheshire Cheese Inn Af
St. Paul's Cathe-irs! ... ^

Pope ... . - - - 47

"■---- 48
13

CONTENTS

Encland (CotHmued)— pAct

Buckinghamshire j3

Her Scholars, Martyrs and Statesmen - - - 53

The Gunpowder Plot 54

Gray - 55

Cowper and Dryden jg

Oxford and Blenheim 61

Shakespeare --------6a

Shropshire ------- .g^

The Wrekin and Apley 69

The Ascendency of the Plutocrat - - - - 70
Decline of the Church and the Aristocracy - - 71

Milton „

The Jew ^j

The English Lake Country yg

Wordsworth yg

The Curse of the Toll System and the " Perquisited

Varlet" go

Devonshire - - - - - _ _ -112

Waiss— ,.

74
Snowdon --------_ y^

Lloyd George and Dissent 77

Carnarvon „

Conway Castle -g

Lake Vernwy and The Vale of Clwyd - - - 79

SCOTIAND— o,

Ayr and Burns ...g.

The Trossachs ...g.

CONTENTS

Scohand (Continued)—

Edinburgh --...__

Mary, Queen of Scots g^

The Isles and the West Coast - - . „

Oban '

The McLeod-Macdonald Feud and Massacre - . a.
Skye - ^

The Blight of Scotch Landlordism - - - . ^

Her Sons Expatriated - •-...,

The Old Lord and the New

Inverness --____

CuUoden

The Caledonian Canal --..._

Ben Nevis - - -

103

IUI,AHD — - . . _ _

Dublin and Surroundings '"^

St. Patrick's Cathedral. Swift, Stella, etc. - -" '^

Killamey _

Blarney Castle - - . . " - - 109

Cork . . . - - - - no

- 112

F«ANCS —

Paris- . . : : "6

Versailles - - 116

The French Revolution 'g

Napoleon --..._

His Ambition, Coronation and Tomb - . . „,

Hyires and Surroundings ^

Giens and Costebelle

- - - 127

CONTENTS

Francs (Conliuued)— pao«

Nice ----.-,__ 132
The Battle of Flowers ,32

I"*"- 133

Genoa ---.._-._ i^j
Milan Cathedral -----.. 135
Lake Como ------__ 136

Venice ,36

Byron ,40

Florence .-.-i^

Dante ,43

Michelangelo, Raphael, etc. ----- 143

Donatello Cemetery - 144

Poets of Modern Florence ----- 144

Rome ,48

Superstition 143

Tivoli .-150

The Tarpeian Rock 152

The Arches of Titns and Severus - - - - 152

The Grave of Keats 153

The Grave of Shelley ,54

Their Memorial Museum ----._ 157

Easter in Rome 157

View from the Janiculum Hill J58

Tasso, His Works, Fall and Death - - - - 158
The Forum, Coliseum and Pantheon - - - 160
Italian Farm Life and Scenery - - - - 164

Vesuvius and Pompeii 165

Capri 166

CONTENTS

ITAIY (Continued)—

Loss of the Titanic - - . .
Naples -...__
Conclusion - . .

POEMS AND SONNETS.

To a Rose -
Sunset at Hyires -
At Point Farm -
\ , lere the Rivers Meet -
Ancaster - - . .
Often ....
The Decline of Chivaliy -
To a Violet - - .
Ode to Christmas Day -
Rainbowland - - .
Ode to Canada -
Milan Cathedral

Ode to Spring -

To Morning - - _

Venice - - . .

Adversity - _ _

The Cataract of Lcdore -
Live Climbing - . .
Florence - - . .
The Canadian Thermopyla
Two Names at Eton -
On the Death of Ubouchere
Napoleon's Tomb -

PACt

i66
167
168

- 171

- 173

- '73

- '74

- 178

- 183

- '85

- 187

- 188

- '93

- 194

- 196

- 199

- 201
■ 211
• 212
' 219

224
229
230
235
237
238

Westminster Abbey -

The Water Lily -

Social Ambition -

Humility - _ _

Charity ...

The Child and the Motor

The Poets' Corner

Henry tabouchere

Hardship -

Chatterton

CONTENTS

riM*

- 341

- 243

* " " "

- 243

- 244

lotor

- »4S

- 250

- 252

- 253

- 254

•

- 257

ILLUSTRATIONS

Portrait of Author -

Tivoli . . ' "

The Upper Lake, Killarney -

"Tie, Ontario . ' "

Th' p'" °' °^"'°«' K.""«y - '

H^s:or--«-

Th« Tore Cascade. Kiliamey . ! "
The Forum, Roroe .

^ir^of:"""^— Cast.: .

Phxnix Park, Dublin . ' " " "
Blarney Castle .._""--
Paris - . _ ' " - - .

The Golden Isle, of „: _" " - -
M'lan Cathedral - " "

a " -

- Fronlispiec,

PAGS

- II

- 22

- 27

- 33

■ 43

- 49
- 57

- 6s

- 75

- 81

- 91

- 97

- 107

- "3

- 123

- 129

137

145

•55

i6i

169

ILLUSTRATIONS

rAcc

Filli It Ancaiter, Ontario ,75,

The Grave of Keats at Rome ig.

The Grave of Shelley at Rome ,97

Avenue of Palms, Hyires 305

Sorrento, Italy 213

Church and Cemetery <.f San Miniato, Florence - - aji

The Boboli Gardens, Florence 227

The Tomb of Napoleon - - - - - _ . ^lo

Arch of Titus, Rome 247

A Marble Tomb in the Campo Santo at Genoa - - 355

Shrines Old and New

in a

Onf

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ThoM
F<„
A .,.'.,

Of prep..
On m\

For plfa;

Plus, :»,.

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' 'ii-ting on th<- tt(;i!! i-s •■ Kind —
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' > ninK to the SDun-j
« : ;-.(ffi'T from the \4c.,t.
' '' '■ ■' '■ !..ii''|x- 1 was bound

■■i! itii^, rra <i ^nd that rest
^i\ K.i ix-esn '-piv^nr (fives the best.

II.

>'re oft i„ .He darkness of the night

ass thr. kt^wm, Hea Keewatin's roar.
' Wilhan. a.T.I l"" -( ,,.,iir loom iii sight
*t mom, fan . ,,„th Superior's ^hore

■•■* waves..:.. ^ v)!.,sh the roadi*,! o'er-

-' Md cl'rt

'^'"••■'''<1 ''.' ••••me the more

■ '">'. thesh :. i.I.,,nfv

•!ni.lation . . ,-, ...lanrf ^^a.

».»

Shrines Old and New

One glorious evening in bright, sunny May,
With verdure bursting on the prairies round—

Those unshorn gardens stretching far away.
For which the speech of England has not found
A name— I sat me list'ning to the sound

Of preparation for departure from the West.
On my first trip to Europe I was bound

For pleasure, learning, travel, and that rest

Physicians say an ocean voyage gives the best.

We're off! and in the darkness of the night
Pass thro' Kenora, hear Keewatin's roar
Fort William and Port Arthur loom in sight
At mom, fair twins of North Superior's shore
Now waves foam-silver'd splash the roadbed o'er;
lunnel and cliff in continuity

Are hurried by; which interests me the more
1 know not, the shore's wild sublimity
Or contemplation of this mighty inland sea

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ni.

Then a vast stretch of forest, stream and lake.

Which only foot of beast or Indian trod.
Here surely man his toil of life may break

And dwell alone with solitude and God.

These are the thoughts that o'er one's fancy flood
For hours, when, past Superior's wide main,

This great wild stretch so much the senses aw'd.
I wondered, languid, restless, if the train
Would ever reach the haunts of man and life again.

But just as morning breaks the second day.

The bustling town of Sudbury meets the sight;
And then I feel the languor slip away

As all around seems animate and bright.

And with what new experience of delight
Does fair Muskoka burst upon the view.

And Bala, with her pine groves exquisite,
Waiting the tourist like the lover true.
Forever charming, and to me forever new.

SHRINES OLD / VD NEW

I stayed at Barrie on Lake Simcoe's strand,

Nestling serene along her sea-green bay;
A gem of beauty, set in fairyland.

Fit theme for painter's brush or poet's lay.

Would that my time allowed a longer stay
'Mid her enchanted hills and villas, where

Hours, seeming moments, fled too soon away.
Was there one spot than all the rest more fair?
O Barrie, beautiful ! I surely found it there.

We're in Toronto, with her busy streets,

Ontario's pride and queenly capital.
Where law and education have their seats

And dignity rules monarch over all.

Here I was tempted to be critical
O'er street cars that arouse the traveller's ire;

And wondered in a mood satirical
Did not her city fathers ever tire
Of gazing on the ruins of her ancient fire?

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

To native Wentworth then I wander on ;

Among her verdant slopes my steps I trace.
There is no spot beneath the glorious sun

More charming than this restful, hill-crown'd
place.

Here near a week ('twas far too short a space)
I trod old footpaths 'mid her vales and rills,

Her winding roads, her vistas that embrace
Dundas's spires, Ancaster's ruined mills,
And Flamboro's distant wooded azure-tinted hills.

Spring's first flow'ring hepaticas had left ;

An emerald veil was spreading on the haws ;
And trilliums peep'd from round each boulder cleft

With the pale bloodroot, and a filmy gauze

Hung o'er the maples, and the green sward was
Dotted with early dandelion gold ;

And prickly beech buds glistened on the shaws.
And all around peer'd longing to unfold
Their greenery, fern and mandrake struggling thro'
the mould.

SHRINT-- Ol l> \M) \KW

T(j n.ilivf Weiir.vwith tlii'u ' . •<•• -n ,

.\mong her vcnlant slnpe^ m* -it;* ! r:-('e.
There is no sp<it licnrath the ^lon-m i,

More charniinf; than »li:^ resifni. hi!!-. . .mird
place.

Here near a week ('twas far too short a space)
I trod ol^! footpaths "miil her vales and rills.

Her vi'nchnt' r^iads. her vistas that embrace
Dunda^':- siiire*. Ancaster's ruined mills.
And FI,;jii!-.ro's 'livt.'in! v. ni,-d :inire-'i!i><f'! t'ills.

Spring s hr.-f tit^w ring 1r;..»;. ^s .h > l< i.

All fttierald '-i-i! ..va.s "|:rei. h^jj oii thr n.iA. .
And irilli;:ins peep' ; from riM:n.l each tmuldcr cleft

Wiih tilt- I'ale h!i,odroot, and a tiliny gan^^e

Hting o'er the maples, and the green s'vard was
Dotted witli early dandelion gold:

And prickly beech buds glistened 'm the shivvs.
And all around jieer'd longin^; !" nnfol!
Their greenery, fern and niandrr<kr -vront-i-f; thro'
thr niotikl.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

IX.

How soft the music of the winnowing wind
Creeps dreamy thro' these hilly Wentworth
woods,

Odorous of May-time, and it leaves behind
A poetry of stillness. Nought intrudes
Ut life s mad rush and its vicissitudes.

How cnsp the freshness of the morning sun-

^nft""' ^k" 'u'' ••"'" ^''''='' "* "°°"'ide broods,
Soft soothmg here, o'er tree and brook and stone-
How sweet the night's aroma when the day is don;

Wh.e others more bestirring scenes may tempt,
I fam would satiate my soul with these :

Th.s rural hfe from public haunt exempt;
These tongues familiar speaking in the trees:
These runnmg brooks, nature's rare libraries-

Stones preach,ngse;.nons; and the genial sprang
Lendmg her spices to the fecund breeze

Makmg creation animate, doth bring

A glad reminder that there's good in everything

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

XI.

Wherever there is life there beauty is.

The more one looks on nature the divine
Is found : e'en in the plant and boulder 'tis.

These leaves do breathe, this sap mounts as life's
wine

At morning's gray or eve's incarnadine.
And tho' these trees around seem motionless.

They utter to the poet truths benign.
He listens, and from nature's vernal dress
Learns her great universal echo to express.

xn.

But time is pressing on, I must away

From Wentworth's wooded heights and scented
air
To Ottawa for one short single day

To view her stately piles and scenery rare;

The wonderful maelstrom of Chaudiere;
The Chateau Laurier, majestic, tall;

Rockliffe's famed drive and gorgeous landscape
there.
Here, too, our sojourn's but a hurried call —
Our ship lies waiting at her port at Montreal.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

XIII.

Great modem City, onct French Ville Marie!

Thou still art leader of Canadian marts.
Thy trade and commerce drawn from every sea

Lead all the rest, and from thy port departs

More shipping than from any other starts
Of small craft and of huge leviathan.

Here is McGill, in Medicine and in Arts
Far famed, and here are to be seen
Superb Mount Royal, and the rapids of Lachine.

XIV.

We're passing old Quebec I What thoughts spring

The cove of Wolfe, Abram's historic plain.
What deeds of valor here were given birth

By Frontenac, Montcalm and brave Champlain!

I see them stand in fancy once again.
As their heroic lives the scene recalls;

And France's battles fight again in vain.
And lo! to north as evening shadow palls.
Like bridal veil I welcome Montmorency's Falls

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

XV.

Saint Uwrence widens. With th' approach of day

1 he narrow homestead of the habitant
Kecedes; the barren coast line of Gasr,e

Tells of the Gulf at hand, the river gone;

Magdalen s isles and lonely Miquelon.
Sole rehcs of old France's empire grand

In the New World, we pass, then border on
The Ancient Colony of Newfoundland,
With .cebergs sparkling in the sun along her strand

XVT.

Hark now! the roll of the abysmal deep.

Where Neptune reigns unchallenged and alone;
Wakes w,th .ts roar and lulls again to sleep
U Kmg on thine unconquerable throne!
Thy power sublime. Omnipotence thine own.
Vast, boundless image of Eternity!
w .1 1 "!?' u' ""^^""^hed, thy caverns all unknown.
Well hath the Psalmist, wrapp'd in ecstacy
Likened the judgments of Almighty God to thee.

SHKf\I.S

"'.f» >\D MCW

\\v

f day

Sain; I..inT.-nrp wi,ifri>

Tilt- iiaif,,,>v hnt':, I,-, .
l<ece<K-s : the hane., ,-„«.<, ;;„> ..;,;,..,^

Toiu of „..r,„f,H,a„.,. ,„„::.;;.,,.

^^->>r.Ial.n s,.,les and lonely .M,,j,,Wo„'
The A„c,en. Colony of New: ,n,„a„j.

O K.„g on th„u. ,„-ron,|„naMe tf.rone!

\-a '(.or,7 '"'""'• ••^'""'■'-'"•ce thine ,
\a,, (.oimdless ,map,- of Eternity !

Thy depths nn^earehed. thy caverns:,!)
V\t!l hath the Psalmist, wrappVi I- ., -
I..k-ened the jndpmcnis of Ahi^Eh..

■ >iie;

':oKf,own,
■I ('^ tiiee.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

XVII.

Thou boldest in thy briny cradle bed

Things that poor mortals cannot contemplate
And down in thy profoundest depths are bred

Wonders both living and inanimate.

To thee is borne what doth contaminate
From every stream and lake and lesser sea,

And yet, O Ocean, wide, and deep, and great
Thou dost, and shalt for all futurity,
Stand forth the emblem of Divinest purity.

XVIII.

And, Ocean, thin» uncheck'd immensity
Tells in the calm and in the hurricane

Of that Great Ruler of the winds and sea
Who stills the waves and curbs the wat'ry main
Against whose will thy billows strike in vain-

He only more than thee inscrutable ;
He the Controller of thy boundless plain;

And when thy breakers thunder and appal.

Out of the mighty deep, O Lord, to Thee I call

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

XIX.

But I have dwelt enough, O deep, on thee,
Thine awful space, thy fury, and thy moan;

Grand teacher of sublime humihty
In gentle calm, and in the tempest's groan
Sweeping from torrid up to frigid zone.

We feel our stay on thee is nearly o'er.
Our trusty ship no longer sails alone'

And to the south in place of ocean's roar

We hear its wavelets lap against the Emerald Shore.

Behold to left the beacon of Cantyre!

Lending het rays to ships from manv seas.
At early dawn there lifts in green attire *

Before us Sodor's head, high, and devoid of trees,

Famed for her Manxmen and her House of Keys.
Now there's a stir I Our pilot's at the fore

To guide us safe thro' the intricacies
Of Mersey's shoals, and now, our sea trip o'er,
Exhilarant and glad we tread old England's shore.

'The green iwird of the Isle of Man i> peculiarly attractive
to the eye after such a long continuity of the dauling blue ocean.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

XXI.

A new sensation! as one hurries forth,

New cars, new bridges, hedges, everything,
On that first railway journey from the north

To London, as around the curves we swing;

With summer just emerging from the spring.
What contrast to the prairie's broad expanse!

Of green, what varied shades and coloring!
Gardens and parks and villas that entrance;
Tranquility and beauty met at every glance.'

xxn.

What shall I say of London? What can I

Of that great citadel of Empire say?
My pen fails when I try to testify

Of a small part of London of to-day;

Vast, seething, noisy, profligate and gay;
Where in a surging stream are drawn and swiri'd.

From lands both near at hand and far away.
Races of many men, and where is whiri'd
In one great vortex all the commerce of the Worid

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

XXIII.

Here may be met hot Afric's swarthy son;

The pig-tailed merchant from the far Cathay;
The planter from the tea-fields of Ceylon ■

The dusky Indian and the bronzed Malay

Here of all tribes and tongues, a vast array,
Attracted to the world's great capital.

Canadian, Australian, Maori, they
Strangers before, here mix and commingle
And ereet here, too, their erstwhile foe of
Transvaal.

the

xxrv.

Here one may feast the eye with rare delight
Pass weeks and months and still see something

Galleries and theatres for day and night;

Parks, churches, monuments, and Regent's Zoo-

Abbeys and palaces, museums, too;
Windsor, the dwelling-place and tomb of Kings-

The circling Thames at Richmond and at Kew-
Old Hampton Court, and countless other things
Surround us everywhere and charm our wandering

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

XXV.

England's proud Abbey! first of Norman styles,
Built for the great Confessor's holy pride I

While at the Reformation other piles

Where did the abbot and his monks preside,
Bearing thy title sanctuary were denied.

Thou they didst spare! and could a nation save.
Where she could see her makers deified

More fitting place? And thus thine aisles, thy nave

Are rich with statues of her great, her wise, her
brave.

XXVI.

From yon triforium gallery look down

Beneath the shade of clerestory windows' light
On these rare marks of England's sons' renown;

The nation's choice, the muse's favorite;

Her statesmen here, her poets opposite.
And own these things demand our veneration

And worship, and our higher thoughts invite;
This place and stone of royal coronation.
This silent temple of men's reconciliation.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

XXVII.

Here to the north are they who governed men,

Whose hves were given thro' good and evil fate,
ay warnor-s sword or statesman's tongue or pen

To mould and shape the fortunes of the State.

And rightly, Britain, dost thou consecrate
Such worthy lives, as thou for ever hast!

That future ages these may emulate.
Fitting it is that they should rest at last
In this thy cloister's honor'd temple of the past.

XXVIII.

And yonder to the south, as twilight falls

Upon the busts of Britain's bards, they seem

As If they spoke and moved— these sculptur'd
walls
Seem animated 'neath the dying beam
Of daylight— do they move or do I dream?

Those clanon spirits who in airy flights
Of measured cadence used of old to teem.

Who m their palmy days from lofty heights

Pourd forth in honey'd verse their exquisite de-
lights.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

XXIX.

Now I turn eastward and my journey brings,
Past sanctuary and Confessor's ancient shrine,

My footsteps to the chapel of the Kings,
Which Henry founded, where the Tudor line
Sleep with the Stuarts, Kings by right Divine,

And George the Second's Hanoverian dust:
'Neath a carved pendant ceiling whose design

Of fanwork tracery above them must

Form a rich cov'ring for those here sarcophagus'd

XXX.

Now passing outward down the long-drawn nave

Are other, perhaps more worthy, sepulchres.
Here the great African explorer's grave;

Here Newton's, first of all philosophers;

And Herschel's, he who dwelt among the stars
And called them each one by their name— so well

Are these men's deeds their best interpreters
They need no bust or monument to tell
Of their illustriuus lives, their works incomparable

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

I saw the Coronation of the King;

The Roy; ' march along the verdant Mall ;
I saw each colony and nation bring

Their tribute of respect from one and all.

And this vast host in Britain's capital
Join in acclaim of George's glorious reign.

And thro' this throng, this mighty living wall,
Saw sixty thousand troops, a brilliant train.
Pass proudly in review to martial music's strain.

What thoughts arise within the Briton's breast
At this great pageant that to-day we seel

Was there in other age made manifest
Such perfect blend of form and liberty.
Best marked by all this stately pageantry?

And both time only all the more endears,
And strengthens more the people's loyalty;

These forms well hallowed by a thousand years,

This freedom which our fathers won in blood and
tears.

SHRINES OLD ANH MEW

I saw the Coroiiatinii oi hip Kiiig;

The Royil irwrch along tlif .»-i lanf Mall;
I'saw each colony atrl nation brinic

Their tribute of resjiect from one .i:i<: Jl.

And this vast host in Britain's capital
Join in acclaim of George's glorions reign.

And thro' this throng, this mighty living wall.
Saw sixty tlKJiisan'l iroo(>«, a brilliant train,
Pass proniiiv in itvitw t.. martial music's strain.

What t.-ioiigbt« ;<:•■.».- • ii, •!■■.<■ rtsif^.n'' Virra.st
At this an-Ai ;iagea!H- tnat t"i-di>', w< seel

Was thtrp m otiM'r age m-iMc tnanit>>'.
Such fK-rien Imiih! of forT.i and liberty,
Best niatkeii by all this stately, pageantry?

And both time only all the more endears,
And strengthens more the people's loyalty;

These forms well hallowed by a thousand years.

This freedom whicli our fatiiers won in blood and
tears.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

xxxm.

This more than any other was the thou^t
That uppermost revealed itself to me,

That they who have this hard-won freedom ought
A people privileged indeed to be—
In this fact, that they have a monarchy

Between which and themselves no longer stands
The curse of class rule and monopoly;

A constitution firm set which commands '

World-wide respect as true democracy expands

xxxnr.

I found a spot 'mid all this noise and stir,
Where I could linger pensive, and review

The scenes, the times, the work, the character
Of statesmen, scholars, poets, artists, too,
Hallow'd by Johnson,* where the craze for new

Uoth not yet age's sanctity invade.

Such spots, alas! they're left a dwindling few

And cross the way, beneath Old Temple's shade

I reverent stood where Goldsmith's dust is laid.

•The oM "Chedrire Chewe Im," ,,, Fleet Street

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

1 1

XXXV.

No cloister'd Abbey, such as other men.

Less worthy followers of the muse, have sought
Received thy dust, O gentle Goldsmith, when

The lessons by thy Hermit and thy Traveller
taught.

Thy race was won, thy life's work nobly wrought
Thou need st no bust to mark thy resting-place • '

No laurel wreath need to thy tomb be brought
For tho thou sleepest in this quiet space
Thy works shall live when time the cloister shall
deface.

XXXVI.

What memories do these ancient haunts recall,
Th:s Wme Court Inn, this church multangular.

iiach nestlmg near the shadow of St Paul
What triumphs of the muse, of state, of war,
Of mellow'd past, a wondrous calendar!

Here Burke and Reynolds sat, here was outpour'd
The wme which celebrated Trafalgar;

And here perchance, around the festive board

Well Gwynne enjoyed the favors of her royal lord

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

XXXVII.

^^J^'i'^f t« Hill, 'mid traffic's busy train,
Thfi, TT °^ T^^'^' and of hurrjring men.
The great Apostle to the Gentiles' fane
Towers high— the monument of mighty Wren

Th?Y^^ "" ^Ttf ^'*''^'" °^ *»* «^ord and^„.
The authors of Napoleon's tragic fall '

Nelson and Wellington, and here agkin
Miteian Donne! Heberl sweetest of them all;
These Jonous names enrich the shades of old St

XXXVIII.

Bri!!^ Jl!- ^^ ^°' *' ^'"^ "' ZutpheS fell;
Af!.^ f • ^'' «''t«"'a". genius bright.
About whose varied gifts historians tell
Here rest his ashes, here his funeral knell

Of K"k 8r■.'^P'°^°""d was fitting heard,

Of English chivalry the beau ideal,
ThT"f°. r •'"'■^''thood, he is here interr'd,
rho of h.s fame, alas, these walls say not a word.*

prtMnt cath«ir.l h.. no monumVni^to .l.l!^^"*'"?.'^- ■">•

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

XXXIX.

Here, too, the lover of the chis'I and brush
Entranced may pore o'er Gibbons and Thomhin.

I stood within the whisp'ring gallery's hush
And gazed high up above its solemn stUl
On peerless paintings— the Athenian Hill

The stricken scoffer on Damascus' way,
The fate of Elymas— these pictures thrill

As far below there rests the mould'ring clay

Of mighty painters, Reynolds, Landseer and Millais.

XL.

'Tis told how Thomhill with a friend had come.

So saith the legend, on a certain day
To work upon these paintings in the dome,

And how he critical stepped back a way

To view his work, but to his friend's dismay
He stepped too far. The other with one blow

Of brush destroyed the artist's fine display
Who leaped to save the work, and doing so
Rescued himself from death upon the flags below.

xu.
But there's another name— illustrious Pope!

"The lettered worid still homage pays to thee;
And I had cherished from a boy the hope

One day thy haunts, thy resting-place, to see;

To seek at Windsor Lady Gower's beech tree

SHRINES OlJi AND NEW

XX XIX.

Mere, ttx.. the lo^er uf the chiil and brtjth
Kritranced tnay pore oer GiWKvi,, and Thornhm

I sttxMi within the whisp '„:(. ^(i.-?v's htish
And gazed high up abc..- •?« -jejiv «tUI
On peerless paintings- the Art,, ,, . Jjill

The stricken scoffer on IMtiia* IV w,.v,
The fate of Elyma- -these pictures thrill

As far below there rests the mould'ring clay

Of mighty painters, Reynolds, Undseer and Millais.

•Tis tf>ld li m n,.nh.;il vvi.h 1 friend had come,
S) Hrth thr ItifarHl mi a enain liav.

To work nfKM. •h<:m: t^»%m^\pt ,,. tjv .i,,^,.
And t»f,w he rritifai Mq^p^ t-^^ » ,»,
To View hi4 W'vk, !«„ u :„. .rm^) ,, ,i„^.

He stepped ttv, rj, T/-., ..^iwr »if! .,„ cfow
Of brush 'ie«t!.iv.-.i the artists fine display

Who leaped to teve rhr w.,rk. and doin^; so

Rescued himst-lf fnmi .ieath upon the flags below.

xu. '

Bni there's another name— illustrious Pops!

Th,- lettered world still homage pavs i thee;
And / had cherished from a boy th* -.ope
One liay t!,v haunts, thv re»t».|..p»»e, to .see-
To seek .-.t W ,n.!«r.r Udv r,..»er ^ heech tree

iiU.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

On which she carved the record of thy fame •

««/''■*'* *?""«' ""y ■""* *"»" «arf'«t infancy;
Who hsped in numbers, for the numbers came;
And tread thy garden and thy grot at Twickenham.

xui.

Hmc was the centre of a brilliant throng;

The statesmen, poets, scholars of that day
Here often met leaders in prose and song

Swift, Walpole, Peterboro, Bathurst, Gay

First of the land— a notable array
Whose fame here yet around a halo flings.

Here now thy treasure crumbling to decay-
Bust, urn and statue ♦-to the thoughtful brings
Reminder of the vanity of human things.

lU ■poke the gMuui of a bard divine;
And Stanhope'! plant unfold the k>^ of

Pope."

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

) r

XUIL

How truly Warburton has said of thee,*

Whom none have equalled, tho' all imitate,
That thou declinedst to stoop to flattery

Of kings and heroes whom men call the Great;

But did by reason, satire, sense, create
A fame that lesser poets could not find;

That in thy mighty brain there dwelt innate
Polish and scorn, praise and contempt combin'd.
Diminutive thy stature, but how rich thy mind I

XhTV.

Who hath not seen, laden with fragrant bloom.

Some poor fruit tree distorted, all awry,
And when the welcome harvest time hath come

That ill-shaped tree borne down with choice sup-
ply,

While nobler trees barren and fruitless die?
So in our famed Parnassus, those sweet lays.

Blooms of thy person's poor deformity.
Have ripened well to future ages' praise.
And all the sweeter grown with length of passing
days.

wl^^J.^1 ^i^'P "'.G'""""". P'««<i « inraori.1 to M, poet
inend, with thii itiKription:

" Heroei and kingi, your diiUnce keep ;

In peace let one poor poet sleep.

Who never «ati.: ed folks like you;

Let Horace blush, and Virjil too."

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

XLV.

After the storm one gladly greets the catei,

And now to London's surging crowds adieu-
1 journey on to tranquil Buckingham,

Shrine of great poets, statesmen, martyrs too.

And scientists and scholars not a few
Where gentle Cowper penn'd his sacred lays.

And wrote his " Task," and Gilpin's picture drew;
Where that oft-quoted elegy of Gray's
Ennch'd mankind, and won its author deathless
praise.

XI,VI.

At Olney Cowper breathed his sweetest song
Which so much nature, so much truth, displays-

And tho in mental darkness lingering long
So far excelled the forced, affected lays
Of copiers of Pope's and Dryden's days.

O Providence! what dispensation kind
Brought from this stricken soul that flood of praise

And piety and joy ? How didst Thou find

Such gleams of heavenly hope in a despairing mind ?

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

)

xi,vn.
He rests not here, alast amid those scenes

A i^If*^ "'* ^"^ *"'"*•» •"» •^w <'*y» were spent
Altho the century which intervenes

Has placed here his museum-monmnent.
But far more lasting and more eloquent
That sacred verse which here was given birth-
Sung now in every ide and continent;
Cast on the waters-bread of priceless worth
Which he and Newton gave to lift and cheer the
earth.

XLvm.

Not far from Olney, that historic spot,

Called Gayhurst Manor, with its stately oaks,
Brings to our memory the Gunpowder Plot, '

First started here with Catesby's schemes and
jokes;

And Owen's cells, and subterranean walks.
The proud seat of the Digbys, one of whom, '

Everard by name, with daring Guido Fawkes
Wmter and Catesby, met the traitor's doom
And fouled his ancient name for centuries to come

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

xux.

Close by to Eton, with its Uwns and bowers,
endeared to him by boyhood's fondest ties,

In sight of Royal Windsor's stately towers
Wi!i, !?!u°* Gray-Stoke Poges-^reamy lies;

Th M "^u *^ **'' '"»P'"» ""<» sanctifies
1 he old church down the well trod Avenue
Dearest of England's Muse's sanctuaries;
The .vy-mantled tower, the family pew,
1 he grave among his rugged ebns and shady yew

Thmk not, O Gray, this tomb which all revere

Where now I stand amid the gazing throng,'
Hid aU thy sweetness when they laid thee here.

Where thou hast slept these many ages long.

UJi, no I the fragrance of thy matchless song
tach spring returns in every flower and tree;

Ihy gentle voice re-echoes from among
The warbling birds, the drowsy humming bee.-
All witnesses of thy songs' immortality

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Or mJo ''; •""''" °' '"' ^°"i"« Seres,
Or memory of some childhood lullaby

UI.

Nwr by is Denham Court where Dryden's ~n
Stooped to the flatteries of a cringil a« ^

Now nauseating i„ praise of worthless me^'
Now steep^i i„ satire or in persifla™'
Here, mmglmg m the bigotry and raw

Of those tumultuous times%e in a hT

To?d oTr.'"''^'^ ^''"''^'"■- here his page
i Old of the treachery of Achitopel; ^^

Of Heavenly Hind pursued by beasts heretical.

SilRI>JES ULD AND NEW

Thy poetry ,, ,h.. ,>„,, .f,,^ „,,,
But. l,ke the m„s,.- ,,•■•,, ,.,„,' f'

Th, 1 J. " '*''^^v, or move to fars
•^-■"M,)c.weic„.„.ra,„.po„tK-.„rsty ground.

_ Stooped I., -i-u. (i^Mwift
N'oiv nauseatiri^ .„ , ,_.
Now strciw^i ,1 -laf,.,
Hrre, mm(;iirii. t .iie

■ .v.k. ■ ;)en

"- "' 'v„ni,le.« me..,
'••I in persiflage,
'"?'itry and rage

^^' Heavenly Hind pursued by f.a,t,heret,cal.

'ears.
>und,

rrouni.

.^!X

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

LIII.

'^"«r]?*''*' ^'" ^''** ^"^ Milton's epic birth

Whose dauntless spirit blindness cotrid not tame
What other Shire can boast of nobler worth
Or point in song or state to loftier name '
Than those which honor'd thee, O Buckingham'
Thou numberest Burke among thy chosen m=n-

From thee did Edmund Waller rise to fame ■
Thou gavest America her glorious Penn
And England Beaconsfield, who sleeps at Hughen-

LIV.

And thou canst boast of patriot martyrs, too

Who died to give the nation liberty
I only need to here pass in review

The names of England's halo-crowned three

Whose blood was shed to make her people free-
Hampden, who fighting bravely fell at Thame • "

Coke, who resisted Royal tyranny
And William Russell, that revered name
Whose unjust death redounded to hi^ countrv .
shame. • '

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

i,v.

And thou hast victors in the world of peace
As well as war, and can of scholars tell —

Of Grote, whose knowledge of the Greeks and
Greece
In history's realm none other could excel,
And who at Bumham Beeches came to dwell ;

Of the great Herschel, conqueror of the skies,
And heavenly searcher without parallel ;

Who saw at Slough th' Uranian planet rise,

And to the world revealed night's wondrous
mysteries.

I^n.

A day in Oxford old, and redolent
Of learning of long centuries ago;

Of Wolsey and of Wickham eloquent.
And martyr's stake, and Amy Rofasart's woe,
Betrayed by Dudley; in the vault below

St. Mary's chancel this fair woman sleeps,
'Mid cnmibling quadrangle and portico,

Relics of Saxon walls and Norman keeps ;

Here myriad years of lore th' antiquary reaf>s.

SHRINES OLD AND MEW

Lvn.

In vale of Thame, to Oxford ci«^ at hand.

Is Chalgrove field with Hamj^'s monoment,
WWe dashmg Rupert and h.s Royal band

AnTrP?i![lf''* '** '"'*" °* '»« Parliament-
And Oxford boasts that rismg ; yet nnrent

^'"If f -';« >^ft^ her ancient Sa^onZer'
Ar^d that NewCollege walls and battlement
Are hers, reminders of that lone gone ,mur
When Roses, Wh«e and Red,^p^°:: ^/ly po^

Lvin.

Barl? ^"^''\^'^^- whose d«al h.story dates
Back to Queen Anne, with lebanon and b«ch

W^cf Sath^- ^."'^'°^'^ ^'««P'"^ ^^s gates.
Which Sarah finished, so the Arch relates

^''"'' '^r"' """""^'^ '''^ warrior lord
Whom a tall shaft nearby commemorates '

£ Rl"'L ?' »' '°""'^ =°»'d afford

For Blenheim, Ram'lies, Malplaquet and Oudenar*

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ux.

Toward Wales and Scotland then our travel lay.

The first part of the trip by motor car.
And as we journeyed forward on our way.

Along those perfect roads without a jar

Past tiller of the soil and villager,
Flying by town and stream and wood and grot.

Grazing perchance the swift or loiterer,
I thought what space destroyer had I got,
A " poetry of motion " bards of old had not.

LX.

Bidding farewell to Bucks early one mom.

We start for Severn's vale, which artists rave on ;
Saw Banbury Cross, in childhood's rhyme well worn.

And scanned th' inscription on its side engraven ;

Sojourn'd a while at Stratford on the Avon ;
Thro' Shakespeare's home, and Hathaway's cottage
stroll'd,

Mecca of travellers ! Tourists' welcome haven.
But anything by me of Shakespeare told
Would be unequal to poor gilt on •'nest gold.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ua.

To whom from hrigte above the common ground
Twas given alone impartially to view

The weaknesses and frailties that abound
In human life, and to discern the true
From the unre«S— he of all men knew

The villain's good, the hero's riOainy.
He had that tolerance whkh akxie the few

Possess— rare wisdom without vanity

And the world's master-port's gift— humanity.

ucn.

Whose tyrants live in hatred and in fear
And die unpitied, and besmirched with blood-

Whose murderers in a hell on earth appear;
Whose crafty persons perish in a flood
Of their own craft; nor do his rogues elude

1 hat law of compensation which frustrates
Their evil deeds, condemns their turpitude;

Whose every character his brain creates

The justice of God's providence well vindicates

«3

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Lxra.

■He Pose above all f«n:<....' ^^'^^'"y.
K^t. ■ .■ . . *" station's aid
1»ch individual OM^n.~.

-o.e.^.Ta.--?-errS..._

1.XIV.

S*^^ "',"™*"^ *° ^'rth again
Annihilated space and spa'nTedle^SXr

5HRINF>

f> ASD NEW

As -her, wTrkr;, 't '^■^/'^'^ '"''^*"e.
^.*.,.r ' ''^'"'J when "Ego"

comes

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Who StOOfl«,h,ph .-,(,, V,.

''*"■""' spanned tne seas of time.

MOiocorv ■fSouniON tbt chakt

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHAHI No. 2)

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^^ 1653 Eost Main Str»el

K RochMUr. N.« Vorh 1*609 USA

g*:^ (7,6) 482 - 0300 - PKone

^B (716) 288- 5989 -Fo.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

liXV.

Quickly we sped along, often too fast.

Past lovely park surrounding ancient seat-
By clock-tower'd church built in the reverent past;

By yew and beech of noblemen's retreat.

Of all these objects which the motorist greet
He takes in but a few, he misses more.

And, hurried on, longs for the obsolete—
The good old easy-going coach and four.
And the slow creeping travel of the days of yore

LXVI.

Bridgnorth! a Queen upon her rocky throne.

She stands 'mong England's other towns unique

In emmence and outline all her own.

Nature hath almost played with her a freak
Banng those red cliffs, rising gaunt and bleak,

Where stands her leaning castle, now a wreck
Of her as like Jerusalem some speak;

I likened her as, gazing from some deck.

One views high up the battlements of old Quebec

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

fii

ixni.

Behold the vale of Severn from the edge
Of castle hill, stretching for miles around.

One casts the eye from Bridgnorth's red-cliffed ledge
O'er panoramic scene not often found :
The castle ruins which the walks surround.

Standing as sentry over town and glen ;
Entrancing scenes so frequent here abound.

One realizes soon why Shropshire men

Are greeted with the title " Proud Salopian I"

,iM

Lxvni.

Not only is she rich in scenic view,

But Salop takes high place in history's page.
And Bridgnorti; makes her boast, and justly, too.

Of valor of her men in bygone age.

This castle ruin, bower'd in foliage,
Has witnessed many a long and bloody strife.

Seen White and Red Rose their fierce conflicts
wage,
And this old town, when Cromwellism was rife
Bravely held out for Charles, his army and his life.

;* I

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

UCIX.

^ T^w'l t^V""'"^ ""«^t^^' shades.

To Worfield's hamlet and its piercing spire-
Its slopmg churchyard and its chestnut^laS

FoIh''^^.' ^' k™' '^^"*y °'^'^ ""«' higher
Found^ Shrewsbuiy, County seat of this good

^ F^.naT'' P"'"' '°y"' "^-f™" there

Found time to tour across to and admire
Bu. dwas and Wenlock, Abbeys old and rare
Wh.ch ardent zeal of reformation could not spare

LXX

I Climbed the Wrekin, lonely mount and old,*

Fro^ ""vf "'^"'^ P""*'"* S*'°P'=" n<=-'e>- tires
From whose majestic crest one may behold

Their hn' °^'^T"='" ^^-^ •^'^'^"t Shires,

I passed Sr."?T''''=''-"'r ^°""'y ^^'^ -"d ''Pi'^.
passed where Uricomum's ruins stare.

And Ludlow, which literary fame acquires

Because great Milton wrote his " Comus " thfre •

And her once famous castle, desolate now and blre.

It , '

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

LXXI.

Fair Apley Park I with castellated gates,

Where once proud Whitmore made his princely
home;
With hollowed cavern in her rocks which dates

Back to when Cromwell's troc^s were trouble-
some.

I watched her browsing jeer in hundreds roam,
And viewed her mansion from the terrace bold.

And mirror'd Severn north from shadows come.
What loss of pride when this fair seat was sold.
And family lineage fell to ironmaster's gold I

(i'l

ixxa.

But this rare beauty spot is only one

Of many English mansions, where the new
Replaces old, and family pride is gone.

And vulgar wealth reigns lord of all in view.

In England now the plutocrat, the Jew,
The once fair name of country seat debases ;

His tentacles the church encircle, too;
And he is filling up these sacred places
With men who love the world and lack the Christian
graces.

;: i

W.',

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ixxin.

And yet men wonder why the house of God

Wh^Z^ Z^^- '*'*'""8 ^''h decay,*
When these old fanes, this consecrated »d

ComTr ■ -^^^ °^ "'" ''^°'" S^^bler-s play.
Comer in iron, or a lucky day ^

On stock exchange causes in wealth to roll I

To whom land, game, and fish are giv.m away •

Xl tw*""!,'"" ^^'''- ^'"^y control ^'
All thesc^and^worse, the sanctuaries of the human

""« to Apler u an .»T!™i " 'epn»ch; I am merdr refer,

lord, of ^?."nd C«? ta~""™'dZ'^r."''« ^ow ttJ
viiling wijch ,i|o„ ,1," „, 5. "''. out of date ajrateiii an-

thiclcl, popouted o„SnV,''tacS;TM\'ere°', '"'" ."""^
towM, to be »bK>I«fel, at ttT-^l 5"^' '*^ •»• thriving
whom chance may make a S^tJi,''" "*"' *«»«on of one man
««i». . ;cw, a 'il^«, o'?'^k!; • »°»-«onformi«, a nni-
enough when •urrounded witt " e hS ''^f * • '^"™ "" '»'•
•»d Pre.lige, but how mJT woL ° dl ?,f "' '?"■"" ''*"'•
■natenal condition. I am here rf^.- .*' irreligiou. and

iug rapidly evenr day? In s^tfe .°''"'' "■'"" "• '-"^
e.t,bU.h«i churTh th^ lonf ago °ec„!„"lf"^i' •* " «''". "■•
"■ ""'«-"'• '-proper and LXd" tor.m.'nce """*"* "«^

• i
II

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Lxxrv.

Would that some Milton might again appear,
And put these Belials of to-day to shame;

These modem sons of Eli, who besmear

With lust and violence God's house and name,
And England's alfars, once revered, defame.

Time was when loud against such an array
The great blind poet saddened did declaim.

And strive their carnival of vice to stay.

What England needed then does she not need to-
day?

LXXV.

Doth not the noise of riot loud ascend
In her luxurious cities ? Once again

Above her loftiest towers doth there not blend
Injury and outrage ? Doth there not lurking reign
In England's palaces a wanton train

Who love vice for itself, for evil pine?

When sheltering night doth o'er her streets obtain,

Can one not presently discern the sign

Of Belial's offspring flown with insolence and wine?

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

IXXVI.

"^ w;!!"™ "°t many Bladesovers to-day

Where Lichenstein usurps the place of Drew?*
All evidencing that broad, slow decay
In England's social organism. The Tew
Could never make nor can replace, tho' true
"e g'ets and spreads out saprophytical

Bringing in naught creative, fresh or new
nxcept that in the ancient lordly hall
The Bond Street show-room caste its trail around it

LXXVH.

These parvenus assume the role of lord
Without the old and lordly family tree,

F«?nV''!;'^'' ''""'^''^dge, training or the sword.

Essential to true aristocracy.

In dullness they are only a degree
Above th' old gentry less intelligent;

Act-ve, not passive, their stupidity
To make ari.tocrate their aims are bent
In vain from trade and finance rather than from rent.

-1^

r.i

P "'

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ixxvni.

But here I pause I which is the greater cjrse—

That vulgar rich now buy and grasp and hoard
The most of England's land, or is it wo.se

To pay rent to an absent spendthrift Lord?

I'm told about an Earl who owns a third
Of a whole Shire which he has never seen;

And I rejoice that our Canadian sward
Is each man's own, and I am thankful that
We bend no knee to Eari or Jew jr Plutocrat.

LXXIX.

But now to Miales our wanderings are bent,

Where Snowdon lifts his barren, dreary head;
'Neath this and thro' Llanberis Pass we went.

And by the hills and Falls of Bettws-y-coed.

Carnarvon next, dull, tsnco guid— and dead.
'Twas Sabbath when I reached this godly seat.

Hotels were barr'd, and on the streets no ttead.
'Tis told that here the stocks enclose the feet
Of him who dares on Sabbath whistle on the street I

II -

<»■■ W I..9 1

SUKl.Nh^ H,l> AND ,KU'

i tX^ 111

lUa hen- I jiausc' A'hiii. -nr grtas^i
Tii.it vulgar ri'-h hoa i.i, ■ .

The iiius! of Englaiirl'.s 1,. ,

To pay rent to an alisei.i ^j.t•l..lt)rlll u.it.i-
I m t. .1(1 alioiit an Eari who owns a tliin;

Of .1 ttli..le Shire which he ha.s m-ver seen;
Ano I rn i.-a that our Cana<liaii swanl

I' eaih man j ...en. .in<l } am thankful that

VV< hen.l n.. knet !. Ka,' .., lew or Plutocrat.

II.,- -...v ■. ,.,!.. „^,^

V, hf re Snu,(l crrar* rwa.i;

'Neath this „..,. tr, ........j.-ris. i ji, »e »-en!

.\nc1 |,y the hii!« jn.1 r'allv .ji Bettws y-(i)ed.

Carnarv >n next, <ii..n. ;;nc-i giiid — ami dead.
'Twa-s Sabbath when i reached this jjodly >-eat.

Hotels were harr'd, and oi tie streets no tread.
Ti.s tnid that here the stock,i enclo.se the fee',
Of him wlio dares on Sabbath whistle in the street!

■pfeedr"!' '';"'^';'"'"' ^""J 'iK-- Tor. Casaule^

(See page log.)

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

I,XXX.

What'sjwd turns good, what's been quite wrong is

These Welsh dissenters do detest a throne
But presto! one of them's created Knight '
And, glittering Star and Garter all their own,
Tis wondrous how in loyalty they're grown;
And praise of Prince enthroned doth never ceas^
Tu '" *' *''^* Investiture just gone.
These little saints, to save a crown apiece
Hired and then starved the MetropoUtan Police I*

LXXXI.

A pity 'tis, Carnarvon men like these

Rule and oppress thee, blest with Nature's charms •
ihfcie narrow Calvinistic pharisees.

Who view men's common actions with alarms

T-"^-*** i° ?'^ '"'' laughter nought but hams,
m sport and play the devil's deadly sting ;

And tho' among themselves dissension swarms
Unannnous they are about one thing-
Lloyd George their little god, their idol, uncrown'd
King!

«22!! iLrf. '^•™"<'» I"«"t>ture wu done by the looU«i.tS.
^^^ '".IT' ™,«"i"f«"oty that the cSnnri J^"*!
tllmt OUT would Kcave aUovance (ccordinily. "~~^ •»"

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Lxxxn.

To Nonconformists he stands large and «and

To lead this Israel to its Promised Land

Of disendowment, disestablishment!
vZ^i ^J"^ *''«"«''ves I found there's many a rent

^n ot W rr^""^ '° '"^'"''■" his sway '

In one Welsh congregation of dissent
Not very long ago I'm told that they
Spht up on whether they should stand or kneel to
pray I

LXxxiii.

On Conway's ancient castle walls I roved
Saw m St Mary's old churchyard near' by

InCfa::S.^°^'^"°'''''^ ^''^ °ft »'- "oved
m ms famed We are Seven " elegy

And mid those crumbling, battered niins I
Had easily m fancy backward trod

nr tu?^ ^'"^ ^'^^"'^ here his foes defy
Or w.th the poet in Gray's Bard have stood
Haggard of eye and woeful, over ConwayTfiood

tl.

n i

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

LXXxnr.

Behold Lake Vemwy, shady, deep and cool
A wondrous feat of engineering skill. '

Which gives to distant, busy Liverpool
The purest water from the Welshman's hill

fast Kuthyn, with her spires and castle tall

Crowning the hilltop, we press on, until
Wales falls behind, and England we recall
By Chester s old Cathedral and encircling wall

LXXXV.

^ t^^V^"^ j°"""=y' *"<> at '«ngth I find
Myself m Wordsworth's land, and gaze upon

Those reverend recesses of the mind—
Lakes falls and ghylls, the poet's Helicon
I climbed up to Helvellyn's tow'ring crown

Purpled with heather, swarmed by murmuring bees.
And from this dizzy eminence look'd down

On Ulswater's fair valley-scenes like these

Inspired the poet's soul, and well the fancy please

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

LXXXVI.

In quiet village churchyard at Grasmere
He sleeps whom abbey's tomb could not attract-

The glorious English Lake bard's dust is here;
Poet of nature, student close, exact.
Lover of small things, he who could extract

More from the tiny drops of dew which wet
The grass around than from the cataract!

Who, passing mightier themes, could always get

Music in stone a^id tree, song in the violet.

LXXXVIl.

But sad it is that as one moves about.
Drinks in and feels the lofty and sublime,

The sordid and the worldly will crop out
And soil and mar the beauty every time
Here man's base love of greed approaches crime.

However quaint the spot, the place how fair—
A bridge to cross, an old church tower to climb

1 found with almost feelings of despair

The "perquisited variet" flourished everywhere*

But wh.t the flow-ring pride of garden, rwe,
HoweTer roy.1, or however Wr

CJJe but hke Peter'. P.r.diK, for pa,?

If perqm.ited variet. frequent .tand,

And each new walk muat a new tax demand,

■ f

SHRINES Ol.n AND NEW

I.XX!tVl.

In qu.*t viliapr ,hi:n:l.v«rd it Oasmere

He sleeps wh.,n, abbey'., tomb - .„W not attract;

The glorious English Uke hard ■ .^a ., here
I "et of nature, student close exact
Lover of small things, he who eould tM,.ct

More from the tiny drops of dew which wet
the grass around than from the cataract]

Who. passing mightier themes, could always get

Music m stone and tree, song in the violet.

LXXXVII.

Bm «.•• ., :, (h,t M ,,ne moves about,

The w,r,*,W «.;< ,h» . , „^ „,

And «,! ^nc! ryu>, . . , ,.,^,,. ,,^_^

Mere nw,. . t,„^ u„^ ,., j.,,^, swf*«^,|^ ,,,^

However .,«ains ,K, ,,v« ,<« p,,^, f,ow fa,r - '

I found w.th a,mus tilings of despair

The • perquisit«l varirt " nourished everj-where •

ii P-r^.,Kd v.rlrts frtqucnt r.-.nd
*"' "-* "*'• ""k ■»>■« • «w t« d,ra«d,
80

let;

IHI

i!'

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

LXXXVUI.

When I was seeing Conway's old purlieus,

I paid sixpence to climb her castle wall;
Officials said 'twas necessary to use

These funds to prop the ruins or they'd fall.

But surely this must be what we would call
A petty theft, or swindling sharper's game.

For when I sUrted off I found that all
The stairs and towers and wall (they're all the same)
Were barr'd, forbidden ground to everyone that
came.

LXXXIX.

At Windermere I heard the porter tell

Of a much noted church and priory
Down near the sea— the place was called Cartmell;

So I ran down there one day in July,

And found the noble Duke who lives near by *
AUow'd a sixpence toll from all who trod

Inside its walls — can anyone tell why
What should be free to all, the house of God,
Is used to perpetrate this piece of petty fraud ?

Wb« foreign ejw but with contempt •unrey.?

What muie shall from oblivion snatch their praise?"
™u^!lli ™*'i !" M '•/°"™«3' "rang out of tourists by these " oer-
qmsited Tarlets" of the British Isles it might be int^Vtin^o

SSLT"; "'^T,'- ?' •*'■''' """"•'' •"' indiiecVmSTe M ii.
mS- ^^"^ '"""«. "■" »« '"e filching and hawldnT^ton.
coUeetiiv that IS permitted to be carried on in public and s«,i.

«iwa Falls and other famous new world resorts, should be free

• This liTing is in the patronage of the Dulte of Devonshire.
83

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Not far away a hotel called Lodore
Stands, and behind this far-famed hostelry

There rise some nigged boulders, nothing more,
Altho' the tourist is informed that he
A wondrous catarart will surely see;

And pays to pass iniide th' enclosing fence.
Because he's told " 'tis private property,"

And he parts with his quickly dwindling pence

To see these rocks — which is it, fraud or false
pretei. e?

XCI.

From Windermere's fair scenes our journey turns
Northward 'mid winding mountain rill and glen

To Scotland, land of heather and of Bums;
Where Johnson, who in satire dipped his pen.
Says that the food which here is given to men

In England horses eat — but oi her Isles,
Staffa, lona. Jura, tell me when

Before I saw the like, and Bute's fair Kyles,

And further on the ancient seat of the Argyles.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

xcn.

I tour'd one da% from Glasgow down to Ayr.

No traveller comes to Glasgow hut avails
Kimself of seeing Bums' birthplace there.

And I observed that here, too, there prevails

The same fell curse of England and o* Wales;
Three fees were charged to enter 'stead of one I

I mused as I responded to these calls
Could he but know of all this plund'ring done
What Scotland's bard would say— !ier honest,
worthy son I

xcm.

Thou'rt cursed, fair Scotland, for alas ! thou'rt bound
By tolls and fees where'er the traveller goes

I climbed the Trossachs, at their feet I found
Ere I this charming spot of nature rose
I paid eighteen-pence to His Grace, Montrose—

Another of these glaring landlord fakes
Is now asserted, and the tyrant throws

His coils 'round Lomond, and thy Queen of Lakes

The lordly clan Colquhoun, like grasping despot
takes.*

• A decirion of tke Coon of Senloiu hu ion lira Sir I..™.
Colquhoun one of ,b. l«,drf proprirtor. JJTc^tT fi'/SkT

^r^^^X^^,^ t- o-,« - i^t

5 8s

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

xav.

Thy sacred fanes are tnrr'd by tolls and feet,
To see them he of slender purse despairs.

At palace and at castle, if not these
Rapacious guide or sprawling soldier glares,
And noisy hawkers scream their common wares.

In these once lordly haunts of Marmion
Gone the old pride, the glory of the Stairs.

O Burke, immortal I not in Prance alone.

In Scotland, too, the age of chivalry is gone.

xcv.

As I survey these beauty spots on high;

These castle, drives, old kirks, and scenery,
..ind hear the peasant's and the tourist's Ci/,

The question bold presents itself to me —

Cannot these great romantic places be
Instead of sink holes, people's gold to drain,

By the State owned and by the State made free?
Why is this whole great nation's wide domain
Given o'er to pedlar's vulgar lust and landlord's
gain?

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

XCVI.

"^ZTJ^JI^ ?•*• ° ^'•"'l' i" *e end

On landed noble, if it must be. spend
Thy grid to give the people liberty
JntoU d to mount thy hills, unfettered see

These relics of the men who made thee great
Thy beauty spots thy patriot shrines should be

KnTa. fh T ^J'^'""' *'"«'■ '''''• ^ 'he State.
*ree as thy heather-scented air immaculate.

xcvn.
And royal Edinburgh, once so fair,

^tJ^ J^^^ "^ ^'^ '°*^ ^S^' "^ »»«*
^th sordid gam now too hold revelry

E en old St. Giles, famous in history,

"~ threepence to pass within her doors.

At Scott s tall shaft th' official predatory

Is met; at Knox's house a janitor's ^

Stem ^°^e^rf«nands sixpence to walk its ancient

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

xcvm.

And Bums, her bard, rests not in native place,
But in a lonely grave in far Dumfries,

And sordid Scotland stands for this disgrace,
Y^ claims his. fame athwart the distant seas.
■ Calton's Hill still brave the salt Forth's breeze

Twel"e crumbling columns, bleak, unfinished things.
Poor mimics of the piles of ancient Greece.

Shame on the times I with shame the welkin rings!

Down from the Royal eyrie of the Stuart Kings.*

XCIX.

But while o'ercome with serious thoughts like this

I sought 'mid Scotia's natural charms to find
In this Sahara vast an oasis

Where loftier thoughts might slake the thirsty
mind;

Where lost the base, might enter the refined ;
And so I turned to Melrose, Abbotsford,

And round Dalmeny's shores where Forth doth
wind.
And 'mongst the ruins of Craigmiller, stored
With tales of honeymoon of Mary and her lord.

* Edinburgh Cattle.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

God rest thy soul I about me here are seen

At Holyrood, Lochleven, Linlithgow,
Thy palace, prison, birthplace, gentle Queen,

Scenes of thy pride, thy trials, and thy woe.

Ere Langside saw thy final hopes laid low.
And the base Moray did thy cause betray;

How oft in anguish here thy tears did flow.
Saddened I viewed these sights which led the way
To thy inglorious doom at cruel Fotheringay.

Our motor we have left behind, and now
Have taken ship for Scotland's island shores

At Glasgow, and our little vessel's prow

Points down the Clyde, and passes many scores
Of spectral ships, coming competitors

For ocean's trade, and now ahead I see
Dumbarton's rock, famous in Scotland's wars

Whose castle high frowning there gloomily

Recalls old days of song and strife and chivalry.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

en.
Macaiium More's domain fading awav

tjra to the Cartle HillU D„noo„ il, **"' ?*"■ '»<' ""-"Wht
»'."f H.^'l;l*'„':»™ ■" *' «-'-'•«• Of But.. d.«,d-

^Ji'iif r.s!h°i Ss;"/tJs t^r',"' «" ^"""^c tide

•unken rock Mu.e. the wrye, to ^^T"" ^""J """ Sowbt. A
•■•' many legends connected trirtrt'^ """"'•^'■« "«'>• There
Scott de«rihe. in hi. " BorterSi,!^'^.™' "«'"•""■• ""S

SHRINES OU) \V;> NEW

ui.

"-'an Lamonts death hill .t ' If^" "
With Highland Man -, „ "'" '*^''^"= "■" '»
And Arran"s S .' ^'.^^nt-Dnnc^n,
^n-f Bute" nm^H •'"'''''^"'^ "^ Cumbrae;

J^n distance «-hnl '" ^^^'"^ ^«'ay

i«

MotiBt Shurl. ti.r
"♦' of Kin, R„b„, ,

■-!an

>y:

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cm.

From sea-girt Oban one may wander forth
To each fair spot where fancy bids him go;

ToMidl and Skye, those dreamlands of the north-
To Fmgal's Cave, or vale of old Glencoe,
Where Campbells wrought the clan Macdonald's
woe;

Or lona, the sacred Isle, which gave
Columba that the Gospel faith might grow.;

Or Tnochatan's loch, whose waters lave

The foot of ancient Ossian's high o'erhanging cave.

CIV.

Watch the red snn sink into Oban's sea;

The mirror'd lights at evening in her bay
From some high overhanging promontory

Or from the pulpit of revered Macrae.*

Then let the veriest landscape critic say
What other spot he thinks more soft beguiles-

What sights sublimer in this realm than they
Or of all lands where Nature beauteous smiles
What can surpass in grandeur Scotland's western
isles.

n^^u «™n«nce wuth of the town and oyM-lookin» the le.

i^i;?.t^-r.h^v-ssr';r^„5 orn«,.\/^^^^^

jrcr^ « ochwonal iron Kat with a «a»pole in it, „n?^ tJS

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Now rises Bigg's green Isle, with Scuir, so steep,

Perched on the apex of a pyramid.
It frowns o'er the surrounding ocean deep,

And nought from its o'ertow'ring peak is hid.

Three hundred years ago it witnessed —
So saith tradition — in a.ncHrby cave,

A tragedy barbaric, ant ^rhich rid
The Isle of its whole people, made one grave
Of that dark grot for all, from child to chieftain
brave.

The story saith for insult to their clan

The angry tribe, Macleod, came o'er from Skye,
Resolved to slaughter each Macdonald man

Who fell in view of their avenging eye.

But how they wrought this woeful tragedy.
More fit peitains to sad and mournful rhymes.

No heed they gave to wife or children's cry;
Their victims' tortures were their own pastimes ;
They marr'd Eigg's Isle with worst of Scotland's
history's crimes.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cvn.

Macdonald's clan, their wives and babes to save
Had left Bigg's huts, wherein they humble dwelt.

And refuge sought in Francis' gloomy cave
How little reck'd they of the death it spelt
Or of the torture which Skye's murderous Celt

Intended, when, their dwellings burnt and lost.
He block d the cave with faggots, and they felt

Fire s roastmg heat as each in anguish toss'd,

And all died martyrs to this dreadful holocaust!

cvin.

mountains show their summits

But now Skye's
proud ;

Behold Ben-Cailleach's lofty peak appear,
Capanson d in heather, tipp'd in cloud,

A long and rugged climb, the' seeming near.*

And all around are evidences here
Of Britain's curse. Like many another case,

A ordly Idler tolls each port and pier;
Another drone of a decaying race
But adds another page to Scotland's worst disgrace.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cix.

P°<'^.'°^e'y Skyel this lordly imbecile

With tolls and taxes levies rates and feus.
Sudcs out the very lifeblood of the Isle.

Her capital he owns and her purlieus;

To islander or traveller he'll refuse
A landing free— to free men what a plight!

Is there no law to stop these cursid dues?
Wiere do these titled vampires get the right
Of power so vast o'er every soul and thing in sigj

ex.

'T« written I clear and plain on history's page
The answer to this burning question's told-

How powerful chieftain in a byegone age,
For King or countryman betrayed and sold.
Or spurious sons of Kings bad, lustful, bold

,,?..'?"^°" ^''*" ^^^^ ^=st possessions free,
V/hich still to-day their idle scions hold
Or got them thro' some godless piracy
Of the religious houses of antiquity.

id feus,

a; I

)lightl j

dues ? I

right I
ling in sight?

spage

s told :

fe,

id sold,

il, bold,

ns free,

•Id,

V * t* 1

SHRINES OLi:> > VD NEW

cix.

Pwr 'jvely Skye! t|- . u,r,!|v ,,„f^r,le '
\V,th tolls and taxc: l./ir, -«», i,,,, .,^,

bucks out the very lifttii,x„i .f -,„ f,ie
Her capital he owns aivl her j.^rhcus-
To islander or traveller he'll refuse

A -anding ("rec-to free men what a plight'
is there no law to stop these curst-d dues'

\VT,ere do these titled vampires pet the rifiht

^t ;.-wrr so vast o'er ever> soul an,! thiuj; in ^i-

Th written! clear and ,.u„ ,,.■ ..„„„v', paw
I he answer to th,s in,...,„g q„„, ,,p-, ,„,^.

How powerful rhiefta.n m a bve^one age
For Kini,' or countrynia;: t«rtr..ved and sold
Or spnnous so.is of Kings bad, lustful, bold'

Were wanton given these vast [wssessions free'
Which still to-day their idle scions hold '

Or got them thro' some godless piracy

'^f. the religious houses of antiquity. '

SHRINES OLL VKri >jew

CXI.

No British freeman who industrious toils,

And gives for what he has equivalent,
Should be deprived of honest, hard-earned spoils

He or his fathers won by labors spent;

Nor do I grudge from them the gifts that went
lo Mariboro and the like, old leaders brave.

Whose valor made this realm magnificent'
But sovereign State, the hand that wanton gave
Should check these titled idlers who the lands
enslave.

cxn.

I scorn a nation's proletariat

Who will not gladly, richly, compensate
The scholar, patriot, statesman, diplomat.

Who, poor, his genius given to the State,

Has toiled and striven to make the nation great
And glonous peaceful triumphs help'd to win.

But a great landlord incurs righteous hate
Who cares not who's cast out so he is in,
Who toils not, neither did his worthless forbears
spin.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CXIII.

Whose family tree is laden with the fruit
Of desecrated shrines and monasteries;

Tho' now his Lordship's taste it doesn't suit.
To talk about unpleasant things like these.'
And when he's asked his share of taxes he's

Indignant at the insult, he'll allege
It's theft, the basest of iniquities —

This drone, whose fortune in a bygone age

Was built on plunder, treachery, or sacrilege.

cxiv.

Stript Scotland's vales now of that hardy race
Of toilers who once dwelt there happy, such

The Law which gives the lord of earth more place
To hunt his deer, hold in his grasping clutch
The hare and grouse the needy dare not touch.

Driven from her soil to some far distant shore,
These men to whom the nation owes so much.'

And should Great Britain be embroil'd in war.

The loss of them, perhaps, too late che will deplore.

100

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cxv.

Upon whose ears doth skirl of bagpipes fall
Now that these sturdy men no more are here?

Whose bounty fills the old ancestral hall
With feast magnificent and gorgeous cheer?
Who roam those runnel'd slopes in search of deer?

wu*" TV.'''^ ""'" '"'"'* ^^'" sojourn brief.
What lordly spender, generous financier?

If not the titled drone or Gaelic chief

The rich Oil King, the t . , of Cop;>er, Hogs .,nd
oett.

cxvi.

'Tis but a span from Skye to Inverness

That stately, prosperous city of the north:
Surrounded by a land of fruitfulness,

Beyond which stretches Moray's silv'ry Firth-

And of pathetic memory the swarth
Of dire CuIIoden, with its deadly well

That field from which the Prince was driven forth
Where trench and mound and tomb in sadness tell
How Stuart cause was crushed and Highland chief-
tarn fell.

lOI

If r

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cxvn.

Here Tomnaheurich lifts her wooded head,

A fairy hill I a legendary spot,
A monument itself for all its dead,

Thy marble may, thy granite circled plot

But thou, fair hill, canst never be forgot.
Like other piles of dead men's vanities.

Which, long upkept, at length dissolve and rot.
Thou shalt remain, and every traveller please
Who roams between the Eastern and the Western
seas.

CXVIII.

My space does not permit that I should dwell
Upon the many charms, th' entrancing sights

Of Caledonia and Loch Ness, nor tell
Of all those panoramic scenes' delights.
The sail thro' these romantic haunts invites;

Of Lovat's seat, and of the Foyer's Falls,
Of jutting crags and ruined castles, sprites

Of bygone Highland days; lochs and canals.

Skirted with dreamy towns, umbrageous littoral;

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Mighty Ben Nevis I Monarch, heaven-kiss'd,
Tow'ring away above Loch Linnhe's shore.

I saw the sun dispel thy morning mist.
Uncrowning thee, thou hoary warrior,
Beneath whose heights had swept the echoing
Wort

Of battle, when on Inverlochy's plain,

Montrose the Campbells slew, and here forlore

Among thy straths the gallant Prince in vain

Gathered once more his men Culloden had not slain.

cxx.

I've touched on England, of her men and laws,

Her poets, statesmen, history, capital ;
Of Wales and Scotland, and the many flaws

Which 'mong their customs and their sons prevail.

To Ireland's shores I now expectant sail.
And first sight hill-crown'd Howth and Dublin Bay;

Sorento's point, Killiney's suiiimit tall.
And landing, drive by coach the selfsame day
To charming Powerscourt Falls, just up the glen
from Bray.

103

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cxxi.
And Tinnahinch, where patriot Grattan dwelt,

It nestles, too, in Dargle's fairy glen;
A gift from Ireland to that worthy Celt

For his .'ife's efforts for his countrymen.

To Ireland's metropolis I journeyed then.
With her great Phoenix Park of fame world wide;

Of no mean city is he citizen
Whose home is here, tho' to the spot's allied
The tele of Cavendish, and how he barbarous died.

cxxn.

And Ireland's capital reminds us, too.

Of names of famous men of history.
In passing I recall to mind these few :

Grattan, O'Connell, Pamell, Burke, McGee.

She has her dark side, streets where poverty
Glares hideous, a breeding-ground of crimes.

She has her " Michan's," gruesome mystery,*
And that repository of bygone times,
Saint Patrick's, with its massive tower and silv'ry
chimes.

•The vaulta under thia church show open to the air, and ex-
poaed to full view at a head charge of 64, within reach of and
actually handled by many morbid viiiton, hundreda of dec-./ing
corpaea of people of all claaaea, from lorda to paupers and traitora
of the 1798 rebellion. The mystery conaista of there being no
dampness and offensive odor, though some of the burials are quite
recent, and veils of cobwebs stretching from the ceiling to the
coffins and the loose bones give the place > most weird appear-
ance.

104

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CXXIII.

Tread gently, reader, in this hallowed place.
Which to his lasting fame a noble Lord

Has saved from ruin, ignomy, disgrace,
And to its present elegance restored.*
Well can the reverent, thoughtful mind ailord

To pass a half hour here, unwearied,
In calm reflection on life's slender cord.

Step softly, then, and let thy silent tread

Pay tribute to the dust of Ireland's honor'd dead.

cxxrv.

For scarce within its groined nave we turn.

When we scan o'er us that self-written scroll
Of him whose satire keen like fire couid bum ;

Great in his day, yet reached he not his goal.

O Swift, thy virtues I would fain extol.
But reading next I feel how can I dare,

For 'tis of Stella, patient, wounded soul.
Who rests with thee beneath the marble there,
And I recall her sorrows, and the lock of hair.

^.'Pk f^"""' «;">;'y ('"her Md Km) during the put fifty
g4n^h«e expended £350,000 in the reMontion of St Patrick't

los

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ill

Only a woman's hair, 'twas all she left
Of a life given in faith and love to thee,

And thou, vain trifler, this poor heart bereft
Of love, and mocked her sweet fidelity,
Her tender care, unsullied purity;

But for her wronged thou sharedst the bitter fate
Of guilt, remorse, and blighted memory;

And so with charity we contemplate

Thy life as like the ruin of an Empire great.*

CXXVI.

Time, the great mellower, levels men and things;

Similitude advances with decay.
And Swift and Rome, on time's fast fleeting wings

More like appear the more they glide away.

In distance, his great gifts and her proud sway
Both wrecked upon the perishable sands

Of unattained desires of mortal clay;
He fretting like a bird in prison bands ;
She rotting mid her glut of slaves from foreign
lands.

• Willum M. Thackerajr ujrt : " To think of Swift is Uke think-
ing of the ruins of a great Empire."

io6

! S

r fate

ungs;
wings
sway

foreign

ike think-

SHRIN'-..-

\Ni) s;kvv

(C/

Only a woman's h;<ir 'wm nil >1). '
Of a life piven m ^ iirh and Inve ti,. ii" .

And thou, i-ain trifler, thi.- p-xn heart hcifn
Of love, and niocke.l her s\vert fi Irlity,
Her tenjer care, unsiillicij purity ;

Hut for her wiVing'd thou share "jt the bitter fate
Of K^iilt <■■ r.se, and bliRhted memory;

And si> witii i^iiarity we contemplate

Th\ life as like the ruin if ai< (empire great*

'igs;

Time, 'he ^terft i!t;. --^n .nv! <h:

SitTiilitiule advar;. ,•
And Swift and Rome < .; ome'.-. i.v.^t rtteiuii^ wmgs

More like ap(")oar -he more they glide awav.

In distaix'e, his great ir^fts and her proud sway
Both wrecked u[Kin the perishable "bands'

Of imattained d<-<iires of mortal clav .
He fretting like a i rd in pris. n bands;
She rotting mid her glut of slaves from foreign
lands.

* William M. Th»<:l(«-»j Mys : " Ta think .
oa ''< ikr ruin-. •*: ? i;rest Empire."

^ 1^ like thinV-

!06

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cxxvn.

But

come, my muse, from sombre thoughto and
scenes.
From harrowing things and dead men's epitaphs
beek me a spot which from the morbid weans,
A land where Nature overjoyous laughs.
And where her lover unobstructed quaffs
Her richest bounties; where the mountains drest

In azure mantles rise, with autographs
Of angels written deep upon their crest;
Who soanng earthward loved to linger there and
rest.

CXXVIII.

Mactilbtuddy's Reeks, with purple heath
O erspread, and yonder thro' the opening glade
t!;"^'-^'^*'' ^^butus-fring'd, beneath
The Devil s Punchbowl and the Tore Cascade
It feeds— the rushing, dashing enfilade

Between the Ukes; what charmed variety
Of mount and lake and stream a« here displayed.

Of beauteous sights what an infinity I ^ '

Where Laune flows gently down to Dingle and the

109

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Kenmare's proud seat, with its red sandstone towers,
And Muckross, Herbert's ancient family pride ;

Ross castle's walls, which ivy dense embowers.
Where once O'Donoghue ruled far and wide,
And where Muskerry Cromwell's hosts defied ;

The Serpent's Grave, the Cottage of Kate Kearney ;
Thro' Dunloe's Gap, that glorious mountain ride;

Then, best of all, a day's run from Killamey,

The home of Munster's ancient Kings, the Castle
Blarney.

cxxx.

On that famed hill, beyond the walls of Cork,

How legend doth enrich this classic place.
And story and romance around it lurk

Whose origin 'tis interesting to trace.

Some say Macarthy, coming from the chase,
A witch from drowning saved, who blest the stone;

Some Jacob's pillow say the walls encase ;
While other candid narrators depone
'Twas given by Bruce, part of the famous one at
Scone.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CXXXI.

To him whose lips have press'd this wondrous stone

Are conquests given greater than of war:
In woman's eyes he triumphs; he alone

Can make wrong right with juries at the bar;

Of Courts and Senates he's the rising star.
O magic stone, whence comes thy virtue rare?

How many eager pilgrims from afar
Have kissed thy surface, and there are who dare
To risk e'en life for charms they think are centred
there.

cxxxn.

But now my stay in Erin's Isle must close.

So well she's famed in story, and in songs
Her honored sons the world all over knows.

It knows, too, of her frailties and her wrongs;

And how the one the other but prolongs.
Ireland's peculiarities and habits queer

Must be described by other pens and tongues ;
Her sorrows have drawn many a patriot tear.
Her hopes are soaring high that brighter days are
near.

tti

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

And so one autumn eve we sailed from Cork ;

How ravishingly exquisite the scene :
The sun was setting, but th' approaching dark

Hung on a mirage of the palest green,

Crown'd with a coronet of crimson sheen ;
Mirror'd like blood along Lee's merchant file,

With Shandon's tower outstanding bold between.
That sublime sunset, hov'ring there awhile,
Lent a befitting farewell to the Emerald Isle.

cxxxiv.

When husbandmen had gathered in their sheaves,

And fall had chased the summer heat away.
And gold and sombre hues had dyed the leaves.

Chance sent me to North Devon's slopes to stay.

And were it given to me to well forelay
Over again a rural sojourn where

The landscape Epicurean can survey
Rich pastoral scenes and undulations rare
I'd choose again the hills and dells of Devonshire.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CXXXIII

And so one autumn eve we sailed ■.iivm Cork;

How ravishingly exquisite the scene
The sun was setting, but th' approaching dark

Hung on a mirage of the palest green,

Crown'd with a coronet of crimson sheen ;
:'.lirror'd like blood along Lee's merchant file.

With Shandon's tower outstanding bold between.
That sublime sunset, hov'ring there awhile.
Lent a befitting farewell to the Emerald Isle.

CXXIfv

When husbondrricn !vai! jfaihrrn) ir. tni-ir nheaves,

And fall had chased thr -tunuiitr lieat away
And gold and sombre hues had dyed the leaves,

Chance sent me to North Devon's slopes to stay.

And were it given to me to well forelay
Over again a rural sojourn where

The landscape Epicurean can survey
Rich pastoral scenes and undulations rare
I'd choose again the hills and dells of Devonshire.

■S,

tay.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cxxxv.

High up upon those heights above that vale
Thro' which the Taw threads tortuous to the sea.

Lovely at mom, or by the twUight pale
Lies Nethergrove, and 'neath it Umberleigh,
Tree-hidden, yet at night how cheerily

Twinkle her lights when 'neath the western hills
Sinks Phoebus to his rest. Here wood and lea

And hedge and pasture cleft with many rills

A sense of love of English country life instils.

cxxxvi.

Ai^ little Bickington's soft chime of bells
Fillmg the air with silver-toned delights;

Those dmgles fair, those rugged Devon fells
Back to their charms the memory still invites

M^f.rtr^^' ^"^'"^ Chittlehampton heights
Recall the WeuLWorth azure slopes to me ;

In these the same expansive stretch unites-
^"'' '??■. ^ *ere, is landscape scenery, '
Where Ml and glen and copse and spire blend beau-
ti fully.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cxxxvn.

'Twas in that season when the autumn wanes,

When driving winds sweep over vale and hill;
When falling leaves choke up the narrow lanes.

And moms are gray and evening shadows chill;

When yellow fogs the streets of London fill.
And old Sol rarely shads a downward glance;

But leaves fall, rains to drench at their sweet will.
And Devon's vistas blurr'd no more entrance,
I quitted Albion's shores for charms of sunny
France.

V<*

cxxxvin.

" Great is our London!" Englishmen exclaim:

The world's vast centre with her trade renown'd ;
So Paris rests her title to the name

Of " Beautiful " on uncontested ground.

In art, in luxury, there is not found
Her rival — splendid in the day, at night

With sparkling streets and gardens all around;
A dazzling prospect, exquisitely bright.
How well has she been christen'd "The City of
Light."

ii6

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CXXXIX,

Look from the Arc de Triomphe, at the Star
On which are blaion'd France's valorous deeds

And records of her famous men of war.
A panorama sweeps, which far exceeds
C'lr utmost thoughts as one by one succeeds :

Palace, and dome, and garden, matchless views,
Which winding Seine between her pathway leads.

While from our feet all round the eye pursues

The vistas of twelve radiating Avenues.

CXI,.

A city, fair, with wondrous things to see.
So many here 1 cannot touch upon ;

Bois de Bologne and broad Champs Elysees,
Sky-piercing Eiffel, massive Pantheon,
Where rests great Hugo, her most gifted son;

The Louvre, whose walls rare pictures beautify.
But now my journey leads towards Trianon

And palace, drives and gardens of Versailles,

Those vanished glories of the kingly days gone by

' .4RINES OLD AND NEW

cxu.

Th" unconquer'd Bourbons built these lordly halls,

These fairy gardens of a royal race;
These terraces, these founuins and these walls.

And thro' these woods for miles pursued the chase.

Here Kings reclined in woman's fair embrace.
Here Maintenon, Dubarry, Pompadour

Ruled, while their sires reign'd, and woman's face
Seductive sway'd the Stete, and that fell hour
Saw the decadence start of France's kingly power

cxui.

And led to revolution. A weak King,
Well meaning, he, but lacking a firm wiD,

Ruled by a comely Queen, that was the thing
Which caused that blood and war which sent a
thrill

Of horror world-wide. The cloud darkened till
The mob, with hatred of the Court embu-d.

Went forth to plunc*-, desecrate and kill,'
And from the despotis... of Kings subdued
There rose the worse one of the enrag'd multitude.

ii8

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cxuii.

O France! it may be— ia, I take it— true
That thou to-day enjoyest liberty;

But when on history's darkened page I view
Those crimes it cost to make a people free,
How scourged by these was poor humanity,

How fallen low thy vaunted chivalry.
An awful price was paid, it seems to m»,

And I recall poor Roland's mocking cry

As she passed 'neath the shaft of Liberty to die

cxuv.

What crimes there were committed in that name!

Come back to where the lordly Tuileries stood •
Tis now a garden, since the Commune flame

Devour'd it, but what thoughts and dreams of
blood

Are here, of Gironde, and the Mountain feud:
DMton and Robespierre's short-lived power, a speU

Ere they m turn increased the crimson flood,
tach, raised by faction, by tlie scaflFold fell •
That which grim ruin builds it soon destroys as well

119

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cn.v.

For m these scenes of carnage and of war,
Which were to work their own swift retribution,

New replaced old, even the calendar.
And France broke on the rock of revolution

'ru w '*"''!''' '" ""*'' '"^ the Constitution,
The Mountain's enemies, the Mountain cower'd
The Conunune, too. This chain of execution
tach one by one destroyed and overpower'd
And, Satim-Iike, its own weak offspring soon
Jevoured.

ft'

CXLVI.

The Decemvirs and Reign of Terror o'er.

But anarchy and carnage in their train.

Left France embroiled in internecine war

And plotting " coups " of the Directory's reien
rJ,T^ ,f ^u* Napoleon, then on Egypt's plain,'
Could quell these factions, stem these crims^jo
streams.
And bring stability to France again
But all these peaceful, freedom-loving dreams
l>oon vamshed in the unwise meeting of extremes

120

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CXLVIl.

He came a victor from th' Egyptian field.

The people's darling, saviour of the race;
His arms had forced the neighboring States to yield;

His name was worshipp'd in the market-place.

He stay'd to play the tyrant, not efface;
That which men hoped he'd save, he stay'd to kill ;

Force assumed sway, 'twas but a little space
Till liberty was dead, and all was still,
Save his troops' march, and voice of his commanding
will.

cxLvni.

Let us to ancient Notre Dame now stray.
Where in the Reign of Terror Reason sate.

Here, ten years later, one December day.
Tired of the little name of Consulate,
With pontificial unction, regal stafe, '

With suppliant mob, with nations at his feet.
This man was crown'd Napoleon the Gi«at'.

In what short space the circle was complete-

Weak tyrants slain I A giant in the tyrant's seat !

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cxux.
Snips upon which his anny'd cast no lo^k

ct.
But hush! we reach th' Eglise des Invalides
^i«coed with many Saints, our wandering leads

O man of destiny, the like of whom
Never befo« had lived, or ever S
Who ^r* r'''"°" '"«^ *« to thy doom

S w'SSd^Tatr^t'Sf "' '"^^ ^^
' " "y ♦«**' *y sway invincible.

i3a

<*f\

^ T

(vht'h t"'' .'''"■' '.'"'' «"'■'*"="• ""tchlMs views
Wh,ch wmd.ng hc,.,e between her pathw,y"cad,."

(S«t! pife ,1^.^

SHRINES OLD AW NEW

cxux

Distant, Morm-sweot urirh v > . ° ^°°^-

*url<i. ^""y ^'n'^ 3 conquer'd

? (

it '

I i

But hush' *•' -*.■■, -i. 1. r-

1 •

II i

ler took

ireck'd,

ie;

rl'd,
iquer'd

(Sm page II,.)

SHRINES OLD AND N£W

cu.
Great conqueror of Austerlitz's field I
If only then thou'dst stayed thy lust of nower

wS S^'r ^",i°«'oW to th,i the hour
Kingly might be, not of an exile o^r

CUI.
But, history, thou must not engross my theme

To bngh er dimes, where days of winter seem
To^njeltm gladness 'neath'a sun::^";,,^

On^r ? • "'•""°'* ^*^« her saffron dj^e
On some Rivjenan slope, whose balmy air

SfjuXhi^hr^^r^""'"-'

there. ""^ "^ °"^' *°"J<J linger

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CLUI.

Till spring once more my home with soft'ning ray
Calls back to life. So Var's vineclad demesne.

Where " les Maurettes " slant down to Hyeres Bay;
And Hyeres herself rests dreamily between,
'Mid terraced plots and cork groves darkling
green,

We chose, and chose well, for our winter stay.
Bright, peaceful, charming, every turn and scene.

And there, one long unclouded summer's day

I stroU'd and mused and dreamt th' 0ysian months
away.

CUV.

Here in this garden, wreathed in fruits and flowers,
And domed with cloudless blue Italian skies,

'Mid violet and rose-encircled bowers
The tired soul finds a restful Paradise,
Far moved from life's upheaving, struggling cries,

Or call of commerce, or the mart's alarms.
Or rival's keenly penetrating eyes.

Here vine-clad peaks with verdant tap'ring forms

Appal not like their Alpine fellows' thund'ring
storms.

ia6

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cw.
Here mimosean banks of ytllow glory

Tu^'"r^?. °^''* *^'""' ''"y* °* *" 'heir ^oom;
mere hillside gardens, story upon stoty
Cast over all their hyacinth perfume; '
pJ^I »«?,^*'-^ «'«* whole fields of varied bloom,
t rwn lordly viUas, roofed with redden'd tiles •

W^l!'°?' ^J- ^*™'f' Cross and Chateau 1^;
While o er her Bay, 'mid scintillating .miles
Kise from the blue the crests of Hyires' golden Isles.

CLVI.

Lo I Giens, with emerald pea-fields flow'ring sweet.

And drooping, odor-laden asphodel
Bordered with rows of creamy marguerite*

1 lingered here one evening as there fell

nt^r"'^ "P°° ** «" *« °«»n and swell
r^^* **?"' *° ""'^ *h"e loomed afar
JJes Oiseaux s mount, o'ertow'ring Costebelle-
And white San Salvador, and like a staP '
Just nsmg, shone the villa light of Almanarre.

.ttiUn. .Sih, of i^\ii",* "^ •*"•>« tree. wUd. ™

'a?

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

civn.

Across the Bay, and on this restful eve,

With moaning surge, with Oiseaux tow' ring high,

And further on Peneuillet's crags which cleave
Like some dark silhouette the summer sky,
Crown'd with their cross — a mimic Calvary.

Methought the water's dirgeful, sadd'ning moan
Told of the wail of human misery.

And those far heights the dusk around them grown.

Distant and deep and still, heaven's mysteries seem'd
t' enthrone.

cvrm.

The starry cistus covers every hill.

Here purple spangled, there a faultless white ;
Sweet flowering lavenders the valleys fill

With their aroma of a rare delight.

The laurel in its varied ganr.ents bright
Here dwells in many species high and low.

The almond-tree, prophetic in the sight
Of the great Preacher,*on these slopes doth grow,
And sheds °!s blossom like great banks of driven
snow.

'"And the almond tree shall flouriih." — Ecdenaitea xii. t.

138

SHRINKS on AN'D .VEW

Acri-ss the Bay. ami on Uih re.",''-' pvp.

With nviaiiinjj surpe. wiih i .Jfi .. ;i ■• tmv'rtiig high,
And furtlier on Keiieuillrt's ctaj;* *»- ch cleave

Like some dark silhmiclte the sumni'-r -kv.

Crown'd with their cross — a mimic Calvary.
Methought t^ie water's dirgeful, sadd'nmg moan

Told of the wail of human misery.
And those far heights the diisk around them grown,
Distant and deep and still, heaven's mysteries seem'd
r' enthrone.

The starry rutus rovers »%'.ry nAi

Here pun->le .spani^td, ?he' < t=it;!-if?s white;
Sweet flowering lavenders the vailtys iill

With then aroma of a rare delight.

The laurel in its varied garments bright
Here dwells in many species high and low.

The almond-tree, prophetic in the sight
Of the great Preacher.*on these s1o|ks doth grow.
And sheds its blossom like great banks of driveii
snow.

•*' \nd the almond tree shall flourish.*' — Ecdesi&stej xii. v.

128

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cux.

InS^ '""J'* r- *'* *"«lyptu» tree.
In shwldmg forth each it. own rare perlu.ne-

And cactus, aloe, and .piked agavi '

Stand n„d great palm, in verdant rivairv

Zl tnT'""' ""' '''■* '^Wte entwine?
R.«^f Tt i°^"" "*« '" «yninietry.
««««tful I depart from thy confine^

spreading pine.. '

CLX.

°"1„T/,.'*1',^'^'"'» ">«'"• hall,.

And teU of Venice', decadent rtkr.
X Iwve to smg again of battle calls,
And .t.r and sound, and strategy of war
And armies marrhing eager to the fo«^
But yet there flashed no'glitteriLg ^bi^^bkre

ArtiUenr's thund'rings we« nft he^d afa;.
No°r Zl '^^ ^=^L"°;.^oans to Shtai'r;
Zf^ ""^ °"*' «•'' '«•» nor sor;ow

««mbUn, our whit. ^lSo,^V,." !i"* ■*»». ««h
clMteri of tilt ripe i^" "■»«»■•. •Itenutwl Willi deq> hlqe

131

(

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CLXI.

The fidd was Nice, the ammunition flowers,
And Flora in the lead, their Goddess Queen,

Led forth her hosts 'mid changing sun and showers.
And tho' no other signs of war were seen.
Of wounds and prisoners there were scores, I
ween.

For Cupid fought and aimed his arrows straight.
And captives took, this love god hymenean;

Nor did I see that aught deplored their fate

As I surveyed that field despoiled and desolate.

CLXII.

A field with soiled rose, and violet trodden.
Which but an hour before bloomed fresh and
sweet;

With boughs of almond and white lilac sodden,
Stih fragrant, tho' begrim'd beneath my feet
What scene of desolation more complete.

Had mortal men instead of flowers warr'dl
And from this floral ruin and defeat

There rose the thought, how many fair ones marr'd

Of choicest flowers of life by hate and malice
scarr'd.

133

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ctxm.

Malice, thou scorpion ! Hate, thou poisonous snake I
I «, ^^^^^^ sorrow and undoing flow from thee;
T The names ye blacken and the hearts ye break
Fill up a space vast as eternity I
For women's virtue, man's integrity,
Ye care but nought, your belchings never cease;

Ye do eat up the innocent with glee.
Ruthless destroyers of man's life and peace.
Deadlier than trampling hosts that soiled the flowers
of Nice.

CLXIV.

'Twas from Italian shores that our first school

Of poetry was brought, that kindling spark.
By the famed Chaucer lit, to overrule

Our former rtyles and manners, crude and dark.

The School of Dante, and the great Petrarch,
Which too mspired Surrey's purity.

And Wyatt's lofty thought. Here we embark
On modem verse, and thus we owe to thee
And thy learned sons a priceless oebt, O Italy

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CLXV.

Hail, Genoa! glittering; 'neath Sperone's hill,*

Worthy in history is thy career!
For tho' by war and faction harais'd, still

Thou wert upon the deep the pioneer.

Thou gav'st that mighty sailor, bora to steer
The way to newer worlds and destiaies;

Who found o'er tracklcst^ waves a bemiiphere,
And bore light's banner over darkened teas.
Cohunbosl worthiest of th' undaunted Genoese.

CLXVI.

Near where Bisagno's swollen torrent pours

Between Genoa's hills, there is a space
Where Campo Santo's storied corridors

Form for her dead a peerless resting-place.

For ne'er did craftsman chisel with more grace,
Nor sculptor's hand such priceless art supply,

Which cuts Carraran tears i^)on the face,
Streaming in sorrow from the weeping eye.
And carves the look of grief, and even the mourner's
sigh.

* Then are fourteen fortiHed hilli, wimt of the Uiuriaa Alpa,
rarroundins the city, of which the chief, Sperone (meaning a
•pur) attaiaa a height of 1,70a feet.

134

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ne,

ajtvn.

But Campo Santo has another spot
Beneath those treasures on her hillside steep

Where nchly carven images are not
Where not the great, but just the lowly sleep
And here at night do myriads vigil ke«

And bum their many^Iored funeral lamps-
A wondrous vision, as the eye doth sweep

Is'of i fi'^H^''t~u'" P"^^'"« bought it st^mips
Is of a field on which at night an anny cam^^

mer's

• Alpt,
aiag m

ctxvin.
I Stood among the dazzling minarets

Charmed and entranced the traveller forgets
Am'd the saints and martyrs carven there *
L.fesbusthng calls. To m,rth a vista r^

ReZ"'?^'" ""f '°"'""« "-i^ticair
WMuTJu^ ""')''«'"'' distance-mellow'd glare
Wh. e stretchmg far around him he may J
Fertde m wheat and silk the plains of Lombardy.

«^or.ir. o° 'r. '^t;^, ti^. ■"*•■= ««i«. <» *.

cbardi. °" "'"'• "■•rtjrr, ipo.tle or father of the

135

SHRINES OLD AND IfEW

CLXIX.

I saw Lake Como mountain-circled creep

Northward, jwd whiten'd peaks their rfiadows
throw
Into her mirror many fathoms deep,

Fed by eternal streams from Alpine snow.

I saw along her shore Bellagio,
Studded with villas of the Milanese,

Around which palms and rare exotics grow ;
And bays, where mighty glaciers towered, these
Recall'd in mimic our fam'd emerald-dyed Louise.

CLXX.

Venice! thou ancient city of the sea.

Where sands of centuries from Alps defiles
Had formed those shoals on which men fa*ioned
thee;

None other like thee rismg on t^ piles.

Artistic bridges threading 'twixt thine Ides :
And many a dome and sea-girt portico.

Sparkling with Oriental gens and styles.
Thou art not of to-day— no Ioniser glow
Thy fires, thy greatness and prestige of long afo.

136

shadows

jrow;
, these
I Louise.

fariiioned

kles;

'«p:ji

^'^

les.

ongi

ftt^

SHRINES Ol-M v\-D NEW

I saw I^nke Como moiinta;n-circ]e..i creeji

Northward, and whitfnM peak? their iihndows
throw
Into her mirror many fathoms dee]i

Fed by eternal stream-: from Alpine snow.

r saw along her shore Bellagio.
Studded with villas of the Milanese,

Around whiih pahns and rare exotics grow ,
And bays, where mighty glaciers towered, these
Rei.-aird n mimic our fam d rnier.ild-d-ed Louise.

Venice ! thou aiivent Htv ■ 'f '^f ■*:<

W here sands "f cen'tiries from .Mp*: defiles
Had forjned tiiu^ sh.^ls on which men fashioned
thee;

None other like thee rising on thy piles.

Arti.stic hridges threading "twixt thine Tsles;
.And manv a dome and sea-girt portico.

Sparkling with Oriental "ems and styles.
Thou art not of to-day — i, longer glow
Thy hres. thy greatness and prestige of long ago.

136

o..^r^SfJ•;^;^-."2:^?^

marble temple."

(See

P^'ee 135.)

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CLXXI.

Where are those scenes on which the artists dwell
Of which rare tales attracted childhood's ear?

Where are those songs of which the poets tell-
The sensuous carols of the Gondolier,
Whose only canticles that now we hear
u^ *"*' "*"** °" *' midnight air?

TK . /"^u ''.°" ™"°'"'' ">« <«d on=e revere?

That faith with reverence calling men to prayer?*

The long dead echoes of the pasi alone say where.

of the early Wtk knll^^ «tiUe<l VeneHui Life," " the rablinitr

Rtuiuuce church.. - ulZZ^ '' ™y™"ridg .plrit of the
bitter je.t .ndbyw"rdh.. ,.„!'*''?• J" "^ '^ K""*^
-V «.Uln thc'l^er of aVIpo^" '''' "* *« '*"«'' *•« "

<39

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CIXXII.

te .fee ^ »«l»rrt'^ ,„

cutxni.

«SL'^* ''^™^ -"'=" -"^ the h««
Unhurt by all thy ruin of to^ay;
The music of thy bells upon the brine •

But what tc n7e doTm^,^,f' *'''°"'^"« ''°^«-
Are memories «f h;. • T. ^ " ""^ ">oves

140

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

r foe.
and low,
glory,
!stow;

»fy.

!d story.

5 heart

loves,
ine
)ves
id his

CLXXIV.

O Byron! fretting child of destiny;

Maligned and sour'd by slander's cruel blast
A wanderer from thy home and patrimony;

First feted, then by whilom friends outcast.

By Scotch reviewers mocked, reviled, harass'd.
Like meteor bursting on the stariit night.

Thy wondrous verse outshone that of the past-
And, like th' impalW Eastern insect's light
Thme anguish only made thy genius bum more
bright

(XXXV.

""'wu ^"l ° '"""'• *"" «P«"' *y brightest days.
When charms of Albion and thy kin were gone

OfVenice thou hast penn'd thy noblest lays.
Here thou couldst drink in freedom, here alone

A^Z f M^ '^f^'' ^*"' '^y ™*»"" done.
And what a blessed privilege to be free!

No other gift could for thy wrong, atone.

No more than human fount could satisfy

A parched soul, thirsting for immortality I

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t, :M

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CLXXVI.

Nor did thy championship of freedom cease
When here thou felt thy galling fetters fall.

Thy heart was moved for crush'd, downtrodden
Greece,
And answering quick th' enslaven Hellene's call,
Thou freely gave thy means, thy Ufe, thine all,

And liberty's proud banner grandly led.
And Missolonghi, weeping, saw thy pall

Refused a tomb 'mid England's honor'd dead.*

O'er thee than ovet- these more genuine tears were
shed.

CLXXVII.

Thou hadst thy faults, and great ones — who has not?

Wayward thou wert, and egotistical;
Thou soil'd life's page with many a marring blot,

Yet playing in thy time thy part full well.

Thy poetry remains imperishable.
The saint may shun, the prude may banish it,

But nowhere else doth genius more excel;
No utterances than thine more apt or fit.
Kindled with passion's fire, or brimming o'er with
wit.

* It wu propowd to bury Bjrron in Weitmiiuter Abbey, bat the
Deao and Cbapter refuted their content He had himielf tx-
preated a with to be buried on the Venetian Udo, hit faTorite
retort when a retident of Venice, but hit remaini reat in the
ancettral vault at Hucknall. near Newitead.
14a

J .
I.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CLXxvni.

Florence! once rent by Guelph and Ghibelline,*
How glorious is thine ancient history.

What lustrous names around thee do entwine.
Worthiest of all the matchless Angelo, he
Alone of men who triumphed in all three

Of the fine arts; Machiaveili, patriot, sage;
Galileo, brightest light of Italy,

And of the world, Raphael, than whom no age

Gave loftier name to master-painter's page.

CLXXIX.

And Dante! he who wrote of heaven and hell.

Who in those allegoric visions trod
The infinite, consigning men to dwell

Many in realms of darkness, some with God.f

On whom in after years affliction's rod
Fell sore, whose well-spent life and noble race

Gave no reward, not even an abode
In thee his home, and who to thy disgrace
Evan in death thou didst refuse a resting-place.

«I7,'f.*! r™ '"*''"* '"■I™'"« f" •«!' in Florence from the
rw Ills for over iso revi, liU the riie of the Medici.

I«hJ™ 'J!^'"'' '"l"*"* »"««". ""wert thmt this h.bit of pre-
Bfa*i?n'"T"" Plore«tino Md coorigmng their «ml, durii

world, majr have had much to do with Dante'i nibieqiieiit u-

SHRINES OLD AND NEW
cixxx.

On Donatello', h.-M T "^^'^^s tree

But written ;5 ' "°' ""*' of Italy

Browning cToiehLTT '"""■" *°"^«-
On this wSd^t^^f! i"-'rious th,
fully. "^ '''^'°«' d knoll rest pe,

CI,XXXI.

^s^iiKittr™-''"-

And aromatic t«es aCl k ^''^"' "^"^ '>>>

Caressingly wave oVrl™''' '""' ''°'^«"
„ The yellf^ o^^le and '^Z ''""'''"^ "y.
Here make th«r t.„ ""* ""itterfly

Turns t tdl^CT^J- thei^oonlight pa
And all around^^L. '•'"'' ^"^«"' ^ky, ^ ^
Here PipesI" so"nfo ^e ^ °* r ^:
"•■"^H., „a ,„,^J ; 7' ** ^°"^y nightingale.

5."' "c,:\^"r ^^^^^^^^^ of s.^r.^r r -"' '^« «»„

WM prerented from
144

NEW

rose and son?-
tree *'

ive sung

taly,

ngue.

istrious three

)11 rest peace-

hours
oth lie,
wers
' by.

'oni'ght pale

I
rhtingale.

»M that Don-
i by Dante in
■wed • home-
'We to return
>a wu buried
■«nici a tomb
"fenfed from

SirRI.VtS tii.D.AVij NEW

f ■. I

f !

I ^

Ri:t not ^i..„s ,,, „,,t„ ,i,

JAveit f^flonoiis name'; ,n .. , j

S!"..ie.J by n>nnv a sp, re like ' v^ '"'^'' '"'' ''
On Donatollo's hill I «,roil.d am->,,,
J ny modem tioft sleenerv ^h i

Wcon„.en„^ . .erse:r :„:';;, rr""*^

CI.XXXI

The ,f il u 1 . •'•H.- ,.ic,i suni-TKr hours

A.Hf aroma..,.: rr.>^> ,„„; ..h,,;l.* „. " ; "•
CaressinjeU vvriv» , „. ,,, ' "'' "' ""'

Here mnke the. ■:;:'^:,^:,'-"-«V
Turns to a .i.^p^lU,^i"T" '7^°""?htp

An<u„ around n'i,,,;';';:;:r/r;;vs

Herep,pe.,.„on,of,ovethe,oneTniingaIe

f' ™ ". ■= ijj:. MiohaH At,<rr' , rf "'''"'' "-'I »»« tori
m FJorencc worthy „, th= gr«° „™ 'h'"'^ " """"■« » -O'
aomj so. «"=*' fw. but was prevcnttd frc

144

NEW

~-^^t anri song;

ave sung

ii;.!v,

n.strioiis three
loll rest peace-

nours
*.>ih iie,

■.' ,"f rs
■'g hv

I'wnlight pale

ail,
ightingale.

^ '"M that Don
^'d liy Dante ir
ndcn-d a liornt
inable to rettirr.
and was burjiv.
instruct a torn:
Prcventtd fror

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

And an San Miniato's lofty height
L.« England's great rejected Labouchere;*

^ereT;° '^l'^''' *"'« *y stream', unitef
ihere is a sacred spot where bards deheht

ode^ ^ " ""^ noblest

K»l«poor, now rtiadi " '^""'=«' '^^ <=•■«««, PoW of

t The " Ode to the W«.t wi.j .■ ••. ..

We.t W..d," the divinert of Englidl W«.

fi til
f

-*i

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cucxxiii.

What brought these gifted spirits to thy gates,

Enchanting city of the Apennines?
Was it that here one better contemplates

The treasure hid in thy u'.irival'd shrin*^

Of art which educates, uplifts, refines?
Was it some charm about thy slc>', thine air.

Or that the sun on thee moje genial shines?
Is there more peace in 'hee, less harrowing care?
What found tl.sse beings here they could not fine
elsewhere?

CIXXXXV.

These questions are unanswered, for there falls

While I thus muse o'er charms of Tuscany
Upon the ear th' Eternal City's calls;

And visions of the proud old Medici ;

And Pitti Palace, with its Boboli,*
Whose frescoed walls once made a royal home,

Fades, as against the setting sun I see,
Dark'ning the crimson sky, a mighty dome
Which tells the traveller he like Lothair " beholds
Rome."+

*Caiino, gmtett of the Medici, piirchued the Pitti PiUcc
in IS49 ud conitnicted the Boboli Gtrdeni the next yat foi
his wife. The palace waa built bjr the famoua BnineUeaehi foi
Lucca Pitti, a wealthy private Florentine amUtioaa to outriTal

148

SHRINES OLD AND KEW

cucxxv.
Our sccphcsm, no. even give a doubting Si

CLXXXVI.

And on the Slope of royal Palatine

wa1hru;^rS3"f ' J-'^r.^ '''"'«■- "-^

A«juffoS"re:;tiSe t'^r''^

AuJu'^ ^ *'"' ""ther wolf until
cscued the babes their uncle rtrove to kill
And^saved the founder of the City on the Ml.

149

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CLXXXVII.

How many flights did Pilate's house contain,
If they are real, all these holy stairs?

If holy boards are genuine they would drain
The mangers of all Palesti it. If prayers
Are made to real bones ot martyrs, where's

There left a corpse in any of Rome's tombs?
Despoiled must be her vaults and sepulchres.

For so replete with these remains are Rome's

Altars and shrines she must have robbed her cata-
combs.

cixxxvni.

In Tivoli, among the Sabine mountains.
Where Anio leaps in silvery cascades,

I saw a garden of a hundred fountains
Still beautiful, tho' time's encroaching raids
Have marr'd its urns, its busts, its colonnades.

Here the great D'Este, son of the Borgian,
Once strolled amid his gods and nymphs and
shades

Above the kingly seat that Hadrian

Ages before in lust of pride and power began

^So

- 0.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CLXXXIX.

But did not finish, for death's stronger hand

cxc.
O vanished glories of ambitious men,

Cn^^hun' * C^'f-one of media-val age»
Cmmbled away the pile of Hadrian, ^

iSi

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CXCI.

I stood on the Tarpeia, whence were hurled
10 death, thro' an immensity of space,

The malefactors of the Roman world.
But long ago has vanished every trace
Of what suggests an execution place

Or retnbution on a traitrous foe.
No more does death Tarpeia's rock disgrace

Above are garden paths where flowers grow.

While peaceful dwellings cluster 'round its base
below.

cxcn.

Near Severus' Arch one day a linnet trill'd,

Entreed above an excavated moat.
His little voice that ancient Forum fUl'd.

One wondered how from such a tiny throat

Could swell so strong yet sweet a piping note
I thought of sounds of discord, battle clang

Which used in ages long ago to float
Among these arches, and how, too, there rang
The voice of Cicero where now the warbler sang

«5«

base

>g-

SHRINES OLD AND NEW
cxcin.

-rinFi'r^ ^"'"' ^""i' '■" bas-relief-
Who £; camvt-Ho '"" "'^''""^' ^'''

cxciv.
^1u,S" P?°'«\gate, with filth and noise •

«S3

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cxcv.

And what a modest stone this youthful Greek
(For Greek in spirit and in art he was),

And what a poor inscription did he seek.f
" His name was writ in water." Why? Because
He feared the malice of his powerful foes

Had conquered ; but 'twas not to be, his name
Outlives them all, and thio' the ages grovrs

Brighter and brighter, writ in lasting flame

Which time can never quench, nor criticism tame.

A little further, in a choicer spot,*

Sleeps the great heart of Shelley, shadow'd o'er
With dark'ning cypress. Tell mel did I not

Speak of a debt which we in days of yore

Owed to this land for poet's borrow'd lore?
'Twas given to these that debt to fully pay,

Shelley and Keats, had Eng^nd given no more;
For where, O Muse, can rest sublimer clay.
Where mingle dust and ashes worthier than they?

t The exact woMs cmtred on the nnmll, white mirble head-
stone are: **Thii grave contains all that is mortal of a young
English poet, who on his deathbed in the bitterness of his heart
at the malicious power of his enemies desired these words to be
engraven on his tombstone ; ' Here lies one whose name was writ
in water.' February S4th, 1831."

•There is a great contrast between the resting-place of each.
While Keats' grave is in a bare, flat, and sometimes, I am told,
inundated part of the cemetery, Shelley's lies at the head of a

IS4

r'd o'er

more;

he*d-

I to be

ce of ttch.
I am told,
head of a

SHRINES OI !• ANI- NEW

Aril! what a modest «tone this yori!ih;l Greek
(For Greek in spirit and in art hr was/.

And what a poor inscriptum did hr seek -t

" His name was writ in water." W-n-; lif.-ause
He feared the malice of his powertui t" *<!

Had conqiiefed; but 'twas not to be, hi? nai]:f
Outlives them all, and thro' the ages grows

Brighter and brighter, writ in lasting flame

Which time cap never quench, nor criticism tame.

A hirl..' ljiri..-r ,»■ ., ■.h')'--er ?:' it,*

Slcj-jK !hf: j:re:it bea:; ■■: h.".eUey. shadow'd o'er
With drirk'iiine -vyre-.* '"pH irK: ' i^id .1 not

Slx'iik ot a lieb? which Me il :wy5 'li ■■ trr

Owed to this land fiT jxnn .^ txir^v- r lire?
'Twas given to thes« that ddrt to luliy pay,

Shelley and K'at?. Ii.id Kt'gland given no more;
For where, O Mu>e, can rest sublimer clay
Where mingle dust and ashes worthier than they?

t The exact w^rda can'ed on the amall, white marble head
stone are: "This grave contains all that t;^ mrr'al of a youn.
Kntilish poet, who on his deathljed in the bitterness of his hear
3t the malicious power of his enemies lie'ired these words to iv
engraven ou his tombst.^ne : ' Here lies "Jie whose name wai wr-
in water" February i4th. i8ji."

• 7 here is a great contrast between the resting-place oi ea^^
WKiie Keats' grave is in a liarc. flat, and sotnctimes, I am to
tutindated j>art of the cemetery. Shelley's lies at the head O'

«S4

• i

■I

SHRINES OLD AND NEW
cxcvn.

^"■nL^ut'^^^'^A^^"' *''"« Keats died

Neath Tnn.ta Del Monte's towers twai"
Adn„r*rs from both hemispheres provTdT'

A well stored sanctuary, chaste if plain;

Where lovers of these glorious two obta n
The.r rehc^'fs the fittest of retreats,

High up above the noisy and profane.

rh«»r-^ "P?" '°°"" °"«= «>™t greets
Chenshed remembrances of Shelley and of Keats.

CXCVIII.

•T« Easter! and Rome's len; n fast is done-

Her pen.tent.al Tenebraes are o'er
And homes are blest, and citizens pui on

I watched her thousands in thanksgiving pour
Into Sa.nt Peter's, an inspiring sighfl ^^"'

Those hosts on .ts vast tesselated floor-
M.d sweeping trains in red and gold and white
Of cardinal and priest and lowly acolyte

Udy Meredith, daughter of th. m • Y"=°™« Barrington.
"icon., Udy Pa«e Tu™., B- T^ "■""" °' Conyngham, Lady
Hon. HenTwal^e r„f tfriiriof nT'i S"*- "RS.. tti
fc»".om, M.P., Briti,h Under.se^;^°' °fVf: "5"^ S. Winter-
JJn«n, Mary and WUliam HowiU ^7*/ ^Vl '" '""• Baron

IS7

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

cxcix.

One evening I was looking over Rome
For the last time from that superb ascent,

Embracing town and hill, Janiculum,
Crown'd by great Garibaldi's monument
There stood the Coliseum ruin-rent;

^"ij" g^°^ of Caesar's mammoth palaces;
The range how vast, the spot how reverent.

For here the oak where Tasso rested is.

And It£i/s renown in poetry is his.

cc.

With Petrarch's and with Ariosto's name
His famed "Jerusalem " she'll ever link.

Imprifon'd, 'twas not given to him to claim
.iliat which his fertile mind, his pen and ink
Produced, 'twas purioin'd;* while upon the brink

Of madness he was tortured, sorely tried.
Bitter remorse's dregs were his to drink;

A restless wanderer, by the world decried.

Peace on Janiculum he found and here he died.

a..' ^h J.«r "". ""^^ i" * ■""'-''™« " St Ann., thnrngh
Mlem DcUvered," ud pubUibed it for hii own b«ntft

158

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ca.

Undone by w«nan'« wiles, the «une sad tale

Uf Herod s dancer— in a cliarger borne
a«iuse he had to female tempter sw™r^'

FeZ:-^ ^/P^"'' •"*"•• «>«<*'* W™
Of h^wl^"^ '''"" '"'"'y had the mom
Of his br ght genms pass'd, the siren spell
Of the D'Este sisters proved invincible

ceil.
Lucrezia first displays her amours bold
And woos the bard within her palace' walls •
rit""""^'* P^"*'"" doth unfS
And he whom princes, popes and cardinals

A "rtimTIl ■ ^^T ^""^= ""^'^^ght falls
Pn^w Z'^ ''"™^- 'thrice doth he BO

Odys^us' homeless wanderings, and so

Fate bnngs hm, bowed and bent to Saint Onifrio

159

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CCIII.

I said my range was vast, for it in space

Swept o'er the Sabine and the Alban Hills;
And the Campagna, which these Hills embrace

Bursting in verdure where the gardiner tills.

But what a world of time this vision fills I
While Rome first rose, and fell, and rose again.

What deeds of valiant men it chronicles ;
What acts of heroes crowd upon my brain;
Of crimes and enmities and judgments what a train I

cciv.

That Forun yonder which Rome's founders till'd.

And Csei,ars piled with rostrum and with fane, '
In mediaeval centuries was filled

With ruins and became once more a plain.

Thus history repeats itself again.
That Coliseum, massive, broken, bare;

Where cruel tyrants saw the Christians slain
By beasts, what Satumalian carnage there I
Could spectral walls have words what tales would
these declare I

160

' a

SHRINES 01.r> ^ND NEW

I said my range was vast, for tt m sim< t

Swept o'er the Sabine aiul llic Al!..i'i \hlU,
And the Campapna, which these Hills rnibraie

Riirsting in verdure where the gardener tills.

But what a world of time this vision fills !
Vhile Rome .irst rose, and fell, and rose again,

What deeds of valiant men it chronicles ;
What acts of heroes cr.iwd ujxjn my brain ;
Of cnmc' and cruelties and judgments what a train!

That f-'orum v-u.>>i who!' K'>rr,r v r.Hirnkr" till'd,

And Caisars piled with rostnun and witi. .'ane,
In n edi.-eval centuries was filled

V\ itli ruins ami liei imc once more a plain.

Thus history repeats itself again.
Th:; Coliseum, massive, broken, bare;

W here cruel tyrants saw the Christi.in-- Iain
By toasts, what Saturnaiian carnage there !
Coi d spectral walls hav: words what tales would
these declare!

i6o

" In the P.azM d'E.pagna where Keats d-ed."

(See page 157.)

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ccv.
Built by the captive Jews Vespasian brought

trom Zion on the site of Nero's Lake-
Here too, poor gladiators met and fought

And d.ed that Rome might her amusement take.

It trembled, partly fell in the great quake
t)ix centuries ago, bui was restored
WhnM?lu^^ Christians' and the martyrs' sake,
Who fell there, to the passion of our Lord
Was consecrate until the modem vandal horde

CCVI.

Pillaged its treasure.* But the eye runs on
Over the tombs along the Appian Way,

And-exqmsitely poised-Rome's Panthron
Agnppa built,t and which unkind decay

Th.'!^ } \"?^^""'^ ^™'" ^^"^ '°ng distant day:
The pnde of Italy, thro' whose opening ^

Above there falls, on entering, a ray
Of the sun's light, softly illumining
The sculptured tombs of painter, cardinal and king ±

163

ill
>'l

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ccvn.

What medley of strange peoples, things, ideas,
Italian farm life in the mind instils.

We pass between whole hedges of spireas;
Young peasant women laving in the rills;*
Qld aqueducts which from the Alban Hills

Brought Csesar water. Here th- yeoman plows
With milk-white oxen; here the gardener tills

His newly leafing vineyard as it grows

On slender bamboos or across the orchard rows.

ccvm.

Here stand great gnarled olives that have seen
Close on a thousand years; and avenues

And groves of ilex. And amid the green
Grass on our way are crimson-dotted hues
Of poppies, which like drops of blood infuse

Their dye. And herds of goats encircle us,
Whose milk, in place of kine's, th' Italians use.

And nearing Naples, fertile, beauteous.

Orchards stretch up the slope of vast Vesuvius,

lomb» of Raphael, the famoua painter, of Cardinal Conaolvi and
of Italy's two Kings, Immanuel II. and Humbert I. Although it
is a consecrated church, services are seldom held there. It is
regarded more as a spot sacred to the country's great men, and
to the achievements and architecture of the past

•One of the striking incidents of country life in Italy, and
in France as well, is the large number of peasant women one
•eea everywhere, and every day, washing clothes in the •Ueama.

164

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

CCIX.

Whose vaprous peak I climb'd to and surveyed-
From whence had belched forth on the plains be-
neath

Ashes and lava, that in ruins laid
Two once f r cities,* brought their people death,
Iho Idle now is that destroyi.ig breath

That nineteen centuries past o'erwhelmed Pompeii
1 here rose behind me but a filmy wreath

As I looked over Naples and her bay

And on to where the blue Mediterranean lay

ccx.

I wandered down those spectral streets, I stood

In Pompen's temples open to the sky;
Palaces once, now wrapp'd in solitude

Save for the sound of tourists sauntering by

Or vendors of her curios as they r
Their trade among her ruined, naked .alls.

I strolled among her fountains long since dry-
Eloquent yet her Doric capitals '

Of the once kingly splendors of those roofless halls.

* Pompeii and Remlanenm.

i<5

SHRINES OLX> AND NEW

CCXI.

Capri ! the traveller should surely see

This tow'ring sentinel of Naples' bay;
Nor overlook in his itineracy

Its sapphire shore upon a sunny day ;

Its bwtling crags of azure-tinted grey,
From whence Imperial Tiberius threw

His victims and that surging wave and spray;
Against its grotto's mouth that changing hue,
Entering within its caves from dark to lighter blue.

What dreadful news is this the heralds cry
On Naples' streets of that great human price

The sea hath claimed in its stem majesty,
The greatest kr^^wn. Upon the hidden ice
Hath struck the giant ship.* What sacrifice

Of precious life ! Hew many mourners weep !
For near two thousand souls sent in a trice

In inky darkness to their final sleep

To feed the monsters of the great unconquered deep.

• The author was in Naples, waiting himself to sail for America,
when the news came on April 1 6th, of the foundering of the
White Star Liner "Titanic." the largest passenger ship afloat,
about 300 miles off the coast of Newfoundland on her way to
New York, with a loss of over 1,600 souls, among whom were
several of his own prominent felIow.citizens.

166

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ccxm.

But this appalling stoty that we've heard

Hath one bright spot that shines from out its
gloom,

No cowards there! when the fell stroke occurr'd
The best and greatest bravely met their doom,
Waiting behind so that there might be room

For weaker ones and poor, they stayed to face
The dark, cold precincts of th' unfathomed tomb;

And thus their triumph over death doth place

A wreath of glory on the Anglo-Saxon race.

ccxiv.

Naples! thine azure hills, thy wavelets bright.

Shall form for this rude song a fitting close ;
Where steep Sorrento gave her Tasso light ;

Where Virgil's mound around a lustre throws.

My muse's sun 'mid Western scenes arose,
'Mid thy wisteria's blossom it shall set,

With Ischia's shades to lull it to repose;
And tho' I leave thee, perhaps forever, yet
Thy varied charms are such the mind doth not forget.

167

if ^'

^1^ *

I i

J i

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ccxv.

But we are fickle creatures, and we rani^

In search of the great unattainable ;
Rarely content and always seeking change,

And often barter great things for the small.

And life glides on and our ambitions pal! ;
Our energies decline, our once keen zest,

And foiled, we see too late that after all
Fruitless has been that restless wandering quest —
That which we left behind has proved to be the best!

And so my tale is told, my task is done;

My Western home, again I yearn for thee;
Thou standest well in the comparison

With all these ancient lands beyond the sea.

In nation's manhood, young and strong and free.
And if I kindle in some soul a flame

Of patriot zeal who scans my minstrelsy.
My guerdon won, tho' in the years my name
Be all unworthy of and all unknown to fame.

Naples, April 19, 1911.

168

SHRINES OIJ) A.vrj js;evv

h •

,.' f

CCX','

But wr are fickle creatures..,,,,, »,,,_.

In searcl, of the great m.attair.abie ■
Rarely content and ahvays seeking c!",a,,«e

Anrf yl''"^''" ^^^^' things for the .:r,a!l
And hfe ghdes on and ot,r ambitions pall ■

Fr.,W^ ^°;^«J. «'e see too late that after all

S I u^' ^" "^^^ ^*'tle« wandering qu^st-

That wh,ch we left behind has proved to ke ZL !

And w i-j., (?> ii t,.!,; in. .,.^1

My w„,c,.^f.p^,;,^.,;j .^^;;

In nn. . " r '"'* '■''"''^ ^-^""-l th^ sea

And if "k" \r^"^'^'^- >"™f ^"'l ^'™"K «d free
And ,f I kindle m some soul a flame

Mv 1''^"°* "^^^ "^''^ '"^^"^ "'y minstrelsy.
My guerdon won, tho' in the years my name
Be all unworthy of and all unknown to fame.

ff'fUt, April /p, /p,j.

iu«t ,

i
'i 1

i68

;st!

Poems and Sonnets

TO A ROSE

ff^hUh th, author plucM in Pop^s garden at
Twickenham.

Thou fair red rose, unfolding late to view
Fam'd emblem of the did LancMtria^tr^a, •
How the tradition of this S^E '^'

/ mdlo'^r'/'^'"'"^ with Octo^JX.

Ji'Sf^^nordoth^Ss^rr*'"^

An^ .^r^'^*?* P^^'^'y "here I tread

Methmks thy perfume savors of the dme

TTth t^""' ^'^ '""■'• 'hese surroundZ led
Anf r ""^ "^''"* *« "fined and g" y
And^anned the muse with sweet tn^:^endent

r«wf*«ii*o«, Oct. r. If I,,

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

SUNSET AT HY^RES.

Where Alpine foothilli meet the sapphire blue

Of that Algerian-tempered, classic sea,

Whose triremes once made Roman history;
Where violets mirror deep their wond'rous hue
In the cerulean arch above, and strew

Over whole fields their perfumed purity;

And wall and hedge form one long rosary
Of bloom perennial ever fresh and new,
High up one evening 'mid a crimson calm

I stood, and viewed below a scene as fair,
Of flower, and sea, and olive grove, and palm,

As dreams are made of, while upon the air
From Costebelle's grey tower her vesper psalm

Breathed its soft benediction over Hy^res.

Hyhru, Jan. i, igii.

172

AT POINT FARM

AT POINT FARM.

'*^'' 2 '*^'' *•"■"* *^«-<:h<»np„g crest

So «Idom Men from wind or t^JS 'f ^
A stern reminder of the vague ^e^ "*'

That man, the calm of life^unranji, sea?
^An2Hf"ri"°'''^''P^°"d'y™".

it.«..m;^™uS;:;rer;;f,:-^^^^^

^CrijL*'' °' '('"'••''y «°P«'« bright star
And almost grasps, but in thfgraTpi^gS'ies

" lost m measureless eternity !
173

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

WHERE THE RIVERS MEET.

Away from west and southern hills

Two rivers issue forth;
The one meanders easterly,

The other travels north;
They, serpentining round about.

In circling paths are led.
Till shadow-lined Assiniboine

Meets slowly-creeping Red.

The place these tortuous waters meet.

Far-distant years ago.
Was trysting-place for red-faced men

In search of buffalo.
They, with the swift " coureurs-du-bois,"

Now long-forgotten, dead.
Pitched tent upon the Assiniboine

And paddled o'er the Red.

174

WHERE THE RISERS MEET

To trade with breed and Indian
For furs most prized of all

In summer-time in birch canoe,
In wmter-time in sled

The trapper sought the Assiniboine
At junction of the Red.

And then Lord Selkirk's Pioneers

Came m the traders' place
And tilled their soil and sowed their seed

A sturdy Scottish race • '

They mingled with the Indian tribes.
And native women wed

And peopled where Assiniboine
iHows winding into Red.

They suffered untold hardships, too,
These settlers brave and bold-
lSr:r;eT2,r'°'- their land.

Gaunt famine often stalked the plains-
They sometimes lacked for bread

Where waters of Assiniboine '

ium northward into Red.

'75

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

But many cycling years have flown

Since Selkirk's men held sway;
Their part well played on Life's great stage,

They, too, have passed away;
And now a city strong and grand

Stands in their place and stead.
Where verdant-banked Assiniboine

Unites with sluggish Red.

The iron horse's shriek is heard,

The trolley's constant roar.
Fair villas, tree-embosomed, stand

Where wigwams stood before ;
Majestic bridges span the streams.

Wide streets with commerce fed ;
Gardens bedeck the Assiniboine,

And parks adorn the Red.

From distant European shores

Here myriads yearly come
In search of land and liberty

Denied to them at home ;
Here people of all climes and tongues

From mom till evening tread
The streets where the Assiniboine

Rolls silent into Red.

i;6

i
a

WHERE THE RIVERS MEET

^"1,'' WhMer, who sublimely sang
Of Boniface's bells, ^

Foretell the transformation scene
ihis simple storytells?

Could we into the future peer

WhlT^u '"■"." "^'^ outspread,
What changes! where Assiniboine
Sweeps gently into Red.

Hold! leafy sloped Assiniboine
5>tay! muddy, straggling Red,

Can man not draw a lesson from
ihy shmy, crooked bed'

Life's waters foul T Jfe's devious ways

LSii^""^-' lightened be,"^

Winnipeg, May, /(,„.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ANCASTER.

Wooded summits, tow'ring high,
Seem to kiss the summer sky.
Eastward lies the lake at rest.
Sleeps the city 'neath yon crest.
Cloudlets soaring heavenbound
Seem to fondly linger round
Bright, hilly Ancaster!

In the gentle vernal spring.
When life pulsates everything;
Bursts the dogwood's fleecy bloom,
Driving off chill winter's gloom.
Oak and maple branching wide
Umbrageous dot the country?ide
In sunny Ancaster.

178

SHRINKS OLD .-WI

; !•• w

ANCASTER.

WiKxled summits, tow'nng high,
Sef.ni TO K-iss the sumnifr :-.ky.
F. •x:\tA ue« ij-..; lake ..; resi,
:>^.iep-. r'.f- .rv 'nfuth v.m crest.

S«-ni ;■■ r.,Ti.i'. '-r.^pr . ..in-i
niighl. hiliy Ai.ca-tcr!

In the ijeritie venial .<;i)ring,
When life piiLsates everrthing;
Run-ts the dugvv..,„rs fleecy' bloom,
driving o.f chill winter's gloom.
Oak aii'l maple hranching wide
Umhragcous dot the countryside
In simny Ancaster.

1/8

ANCASTER

Men from many a clime and strand
Wandenngo-er this pleasant laT
Dnricmgm her fresh, pure air.

Feastmg eyes on scenes so fair.
Testify no other place

Serener smiles on Nature's face

Than charming Ancaster I

Breezes sigh amid her trees.
hoft^Eolian melodies I

Gently winding, limpid streams,

Wend their way thro' every val^.
Intercepting hill and dale
In shady Ancaster.

Tell me, winds, as thro' her trees
Whisper sweet your hannonies;
J^e" me, distant silv'ry calls,
Ut her murmuring waterfalls.
Surely spirit things are ye
"aced here by some deity
In fairy Ancaster!

i8i

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

On the mirror of my mind,
Absent, do I hourly find
'Mid her verdant hills and leaves,
Scenes which fancy fondly weaves;
All that memory doth revere
Seems to meet and centre here.
In lovely Ancasterl

Tht Rmitra, Pranct,
CkruhHot, If II.

tSa

OFTEN

OFTEN.*

Often at break of day, before the din
And stir of city life or song of bird

Disturbs the air and wakens all within,
Thy voice by me is heard.

Often at noontide hour, when all is life.
And commerce fUls the busy, rushing street,

And footsteps tread in constant toil and strife
I seem to hear thy feet. '

Often at even, when the crimson sun

Sinks glorious to his rest o'er western plain.

In fancy's weaving when the day is done
I kiss thy cheek again.

Often in silent night, when all is still
And naught but contemplation doth beguile.

Far from my love these eyes with tears do fill •
I long to see thy smile.

183

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Often in dreams, bereft of nature's power,
This fever'd brain declines to take its rest ;

I yearn to lay for one short, passing hour
This head upon thy breast.

Often when, heartsick, wandering here and there
Aimless and lonely through this strange new
land.

New faces and new problems everywhere,
Would I could take thy hand.

And often, dear one, there comes over me,
Burdened with sorrow and with care oppress'd,

A deep, long yearning to return to thee
And be again at rest.

WiiuHptg, Pibnary, 1911.

THE DECLINE OF CHIVALRY

THE DECLINE OF CHIVALRY.

'Tis told in legend how

In olden days the armored knight

In furth'rance of his given plighted vow

Rode to the rescue of his lady fair;

How virtue, honor, love and loyalty

Formed in men's hearts resolve to do the right

Such was the age of chivalry.

Of motive high, of courage rare,

When noble child of tender years,

Both called to act the part of menial page

And taught great deeds to do and dare,

An Esquire next we're told was proudly made;

And last nfl.iming knightly age

Knelt ,u.1 received the "accolade."

Bravery the ideal then.

Not wealth; combine and trust, alike unknown

Ate not like canker to the heart of men.

Religion's light burned strong:

To-day 'tis dim ; we hear the groan

Of millions clamoring for redress of wrong.

185

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Burke vividly

Over a cycle since, in lurid gloom,

Pictured in words those sordid, evil times

Which brought so dire a fate

To beautiful Queen Antoinette, on whom

For lack of chivalry

Men dared in lust of blood to perpetrate

The worst of revolution's crimes.

O gifted Celt! We say

With thee, deploring high ideals lost,

Wealth gained and power secured at honor's cost.

Beholding the degeneracy of to-day —

The poor oppressed, the weak asunder drawn.

Courts, Governments and Councils sold and

bought.
Heroic character a thing of naught —
"The Calculator's age salutes the dawn;
The age of chivalry is gone."

IVmniptg, January, ifn.

i86

TO A VIOLET

TO A VIOLET.

Gathered on the grave of Keats at Rome.

WWle others sought their pleasure on a round

Of Palace, Arch and Temple of old Rome,

And Pantheon and royal Caesar's tomb,

I wandered toward Testaccio's hill, and found

The grave of Keats, to me more sacred ground

For here rests that sweet flower of song, than

whom
No sweeter ever faded in its bloom.
I plucked a violet from this humble mound
And, press'd between his poems, I shall keep
Though thy leaf wither and thy perfume fade,
Ihee—httle flower; thou wilt be to me
In far^jflf western land beyond the deep
Of Beauty's bard, who rests near Cestius' shade
An Inspiration and a Memory I

Romt, April 3, igig.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ODE TO CHRISTMAS DAY.

Thou charaiing day of unalloyed content,
Thou fantasy of childhood's happy hour.
Creator of all joy and merriment,
Distributor of Love's and Kindness' power;
What is it marks thine advent among men
In this and every other Christian clime
With gladness and with gay festivity?
Chiefly because thou point'st to us the time.
And call'st to our remembrance yet again
The wondrous theme of Christ's Nativity.

And too, because at this especial time
Thou mak'st the discord of the bygone year
Give place to love and unison and rhyme,
And all harsh thoughts and actions disappear.
Thou causest all in contest warm to vie
And eagerly in one accord engage
And use their best endeavors to disperse
Kindness about, and self-denial try;
Others to please, our own base ends immerse.
From childhood on to winter's hoary age.

i88

'Sm pax,

SHRIN'FS OLl> A\i< N'EW

MM
k

! i.
U

ODE TO CHRISTM.s. • V

Tliou charming day of unalloyed conterit,
Thou fantasy of childhootl's hapi'y hour,
Creator of al! joy and merriment,
D'stributor of Love's and Kindiii;ss' p<3wer;
\> .lat is it niar'KS tliiae advent among men
T 1 this and every other Christian clime
With irlndn*'!-'. Tpd with gay ieitivity?
Chiefiv i*. «i. J- -h.i.i (»!!i''«t t.i ns the tiiue,

\r(T' .»; ■ .:^H ;.

And too, because al 'h^. . : iic

Thou niak'st the distord ui the bygone year
Give place to love and unison and rhyme,
And all harsh tliuughts and actions disappear,
Thou caiisest all in contest wrnn to vie
And eagerly in one accord engage
And use their best endeavors to disperse
Kindness about, and self-denial try;
Others to please, our own base ckIs immerse.
From childhood on to winter's hoary age.

i88

"xS^stSJ^^:el^?^^tt^L::.r-'Ha„.„„„

(See page ,Sj-)

ODE TO CHRISTMAS DAY

Let strains of music then be heard to-day.
I<et melody be wafted near and far
Ut hght be kindled in the darkened way
To lead m« onward like the Eastern Star
To kmdly deeds and gentle words of love;
We cannot hear the sweet seraphic voice

^r s^ .h. r"" m'** *c' '°"« °"*P°"«d to them.
a?t r ** ^"'f '"S Star in heaven above;
But m good-will can equally rejoice
W>th those who saw the Star of Bethlehem.

^r BetWehOTl that sound of melody
Which echoed o'er thy housetops long ago.
Those angel voices in sweet hannony

And that bnght vision bursting on the 4w
?old of .'' rK-.i'''''"^ "^"^ *y snowcUd Wils ■
aweeter than song from out th' empyrean blue
Brighter th^ sunlight which the .H'ZS,"''
God s gift to man m Song and Light unfurl'd.

.9.

IP'

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Whose lines are cast in darker shades than ours,
Whom chiU misfortune may have stricken sore,
Who may have fallen by stem Fate's caprice
From high est ite to low, from rich to poor?
He who on such his Christmas bounty showers
Keeps best the Birthday of the Prince of Peace.

Wimipie, Chriitmat. I9'0.

193

RAINBOW^AND

RAINBOWLAND.
There is a land, so saith an Iceland tale

ffw* Buekmgton.

>93

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

ODE TO CANADA.*

First land in all the Universe,

None other may transcend!
O Canada, thy prayers rehearse.

Thy thankful praises blend;
And in thy best last golden West

Has each succeeding year,
Filled by God's hand with all things grand,

Been crowned with goodlier cheer.

Each passing bounteous year thou'st seen

On land, on sea, in air,
Discoveries greater than have been.

Advancement everywhere;
On history's page, in any age

No mightier strides veremade;
No other state so soon grown g eat.

In conune :, wealth and trade.

• Written for the Winnipeg Bomrd of Educalioii.

194

ODE TO CANADA

No war. nor plague, nor pestilence,

No restless discontent,
No base corrupting influence

Have on thy shores been sent:
But vast and wide. Great Britain's pride.

Thou stand'st supreme to-day.
Pulsing with life, devoid of strife

Dissension or decay. '

Thankful t(Mlay thy people are,

And should they not have cause?
For King and Flag, for Hope's bririit star

For just and equal laws ;
For family ti« and bright, clear skies.

For sun and rain and flower.
For Word of Truth, for glorious Youth

And charm of Manhood's power

ffinniptg, BmpW, Day, 1911.

195

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

MILAN CATHEDRAL.

Midway between the terrace and the crest
O* this rare marble pile, I saw there, hung,
A figur^ which I noticed most among

Tiie many — Christ asleep on Mary's breast.

And there some pigeons had contrived a nest,
Tho' poor and frail the hold by which it hung;
And fed and guarded well their callow young.

And warded off th' intrusions of the rest;

And as I watched them there a passing thought
Of grandeur, mingled with humility.
Came flooding o'er this sordid heart of mine:

How the great Author of all Love had brought
Those gentle birds to nestle near the knee
Of that Bless'd Mother, with her Child Divine.

Uilan, Uareh 6, ifu.

196

' ■ ■ ■ ■ in a cfoicc: -iput

SlerpR thf ^rent heart of Shclkv. shadow-d ..'<
With (iark mng cypress .

i.^w t'^KC 154-)

SHMXrs Ol.r. ,\.VD NEW

MILAN CATHEDRAL

Midway between the terrace and ti.e crest

•\.„i r;, ■ ■"' '^^'' "" Mary's breast

Ami there -.«.e p,,eons had .ontrived a nest

•^<i v»,„,i.<si .f'.^ ' ■^'■11 •'•"- callow y„ung.
And ,is / iv!,f^.j „ '■ '" "^I

Of s:rand-!,T r-„ii4,.f- ,-,,, . ' '"»;'"

Of that Bless d. Mother, w,th her Child Divfne

Milan, March

. /9;j.

196

• In a clioi

With H=,i;' "'""" """ "< Sh
with dark ning cypress

Sleeps the 'great henrf ^f "?rn *''"'

With H,.D..?™' "'"" of bhelley, sliadowd o'c

(See page 154.)

ODE TO SPRING

ODE 'ro SPRING.

Hail I Season of soft winds and budding ilowen,
Dispeller of fierce winter's frigid bounds '

Come w.th thy pleasant germinating showers

H.rt?r^ *u ^''^^^ ""'' *•«= "•'^dow grounds:
Hark I thro; the pmes, in cadence sweet, IhcT

The music of thine advent, waited lone
And on the air I catch the whispering

Of tfie approaching summer. Birds in sone
Over the plowman's head pipe far and nea^^
New merald tints on field ^d tree app^^

And herald all around thy birth, O Spriiig.

See! in the orchard and the scented wood,
S>ure tokens of thy coming everywhere,

AnTjS °^r'' -hiteagainT^has 'stood.
And whitened there thro' many a yester-yea^

Of ^hfl ' ^ ^'°'" °"* *"= blossomrg
Y<«l 'mM r?"'"*' pink-tinted peach. ^
In il ' *''°**y =«^e« insect hum

Gemal lifegiver, balmy odorous SpringI

199

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

The village lad, weary of skate and sled

Now stored away, at end of daily school
Hies him with rod in hand to streanilet's bed.

And whips the finny haunts of brook and pool,
Just cleared from freshet's overflowing flood,

And freed from icy covering of frost.
And here stays till the nightfall, lingering.

Not thinking of the hours that he has stood
Trying to tempt again the beauties lost,
Nor of the times his line in vain he's tossed,

On this his first excursion of the Spring.

Nor is the boy who haimts the limpid stream.

Nor child at play amid the bloom so fair.
Nor plowman following afield his team.

The only lover of thy fragrance rare.
Sweet vernal Season. In yon hilly mead

Are lowing cattle winding up the trail.
And browsing ewes content meandering,

While sportive lambs alternate skip and feed.
Their joyous bleatings echoing thro' the vale;
The brute creation, too, on thee regale.

And thankful greet thy dawn, O glorious Spring I

Ancatttr, May, igzi.

900

TO MORNING

Thou who of old didst gild the fretted skies,
Upon Olympus, when goat-footed Pan
Piped to the sylvan nymphs of mythic Greece,
And from fair Syrinx formed his shepherd's reed I
Thou metaphor by which the tongue of man
Hath clothed from the foundations of the world
And from the birth of language, similies
Of all the bright and good and true in life I
Thou period in which the mounting lark
Doth pour from out the vault of England's skies,
Unseen by man, its wondrous silver note
Hid in the vortex of the glimmering dawn!

Wiose long, white fingers cast their mantle bright.
Of new-bom life throughout all time and space
On the far islands of the Southern seas.
Whose verdure lasts throughout the changeless year.
Whose waters ne'er are frost-bound, and whose

fruits
Hang mellow and bespice the tropic winds.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW
On the high mountains whose eternal snows

"* fl!l!S"^'' **'' '''°"''* ^"^ ^^ *''«' ■ne'ting
nooos

To freshen and make green the vales beneath

Or on the prairie vast, where distant honk

Of goose and trumpet of awakening crane.

Announce the morning flight to rtubble field.

ni.

Say smiling child, why bards of bygone days
Dwell most on that forerunner of dark night,
1 hy dusky sister Eve, with shadows chill
And dymg sunset. I would fain attune
My lyre to sing of brighter scenes and things.
And how the dark and gloom do flee away

?f ^Y/*'*^ *'''^''" P"""" '"°"»'s with their pall
Glad Mom ! to thee my song I dedicate ;
Precursor of the bright and glorious day
Dispeller of the vicious things of night '
Awakener of the worid and of all life '
On mount, o'er vale, and in th' abysmal deep.

IV.

When Lucifer hath vanished, and the moon
P^raued by Phoebus from his orient couch'
u/^ y«' * "<:Wy light from western sky
When meads are grey, o'ersprinkled all around

202

TO MORNING

With summer's dew or fall's first ashen hoar,
And mist obscures the valleys, tho' beyond
'Tis pierced by crowning hilltop, or mayhap
By some dead warrior of primeval wood
The logger's axe hath spared to stand and rot.
Entranced we see from out the crimson East '
The first rays flash of thy all-welcome light,
Begemming every leaf and blade and flower.

Now Eos, mother of the Stars of Heaven,

And of the winds and of Eosphorus,

Comes forth from out her eastern palace gates

In chariot of yellow, piloting

*?*■■ f****** °^ snowy white, and doth diffuse

The light, and grasp and slay the fleeing Dark

Bewitching goddess! who with equal flame

Inspired the loves of deities and men,

Who with her brother Helius hath been steer'd

Across Latona's dismal northern skies

jta the celestial artist's Golden Cup*

To guide the Sun-god back o'er heaven's dome.

lO^dS.' JJ'IS'h^"""., '"'/'':"' '^' *"<"• " E«^ the Titan
SM Md goddtM with their chariot, ud horKs w«e Jl

ao3

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

That favorit chS;/^tL*.'"'^f ■"'■"•
Seelf^rt, >.■ '■"'*'^" Of the Summer's dark
beeketh h,s wonted forest hiding-place
And Philomela shuns the haunt! of m«.

VH.

NEW

of the night
revealing Mom.
leave

sting-time,
e,

lidnight stiM,
for his prey,
'Ugh the woods,
fie dense;
>or-wiIl,
er's dark,
ce,
men.

epose,

ir is fill'd
i

ong

andise

ming shriek,

>r,

I of night

SHRrNMs oi o .,.VD >,E^

0^"-p„hle„ hvthe m<K^nL '^''' ^°^ ^is pre.
;^"'' the sofs„ote,J ^en/l V-^""^'" ''*""«.•

Vft.

I i

Who quicj. r.cr^ ■ ^' ""■ away
Jfn nothing, hfce M,. ''"'med to end

204

NEW

f the ni^t
"■a'i'ig Morn

i"g-time.

knight still,
or his prey,
fh the Wood's,
' 'lense;
-will,

s dark,

>se,
i fill'd

ise

'S shriek,

night,

TO MORNING
And now^uie .lumbering .w.i„. th.^ ,,,„,„^
B««ini himWlf and seeks his daily toil.

VIII.

The air is lade„ with the gladdened voice
Of ri^ ""' u^ ^"'^'- ""*• ^''^ 'he scent
Zd^hV''"'''^"'^'^^ *'"■ the dew.

Are Sheep and sw.ne and little calves, all loath

mth chased the damp and chill of night awav
And frogs are helple*,, still beneath the wS
W th «>dd ^,„g ^^ j^_.^^
Fate on the.r wandering, over field a^wood.

IX.

What ,»rt of earth's revolving day than thee

n m'r "Ti!' ^"''''' Do'th not Spring
The morn mg of the year mot* softly breathe
Her damtiest odors with thy openiL r^ ?

And in ST„h"^ '''^*' T^"^ 'hey be bon^?
Thv ^tt M ^ summer's halcyon hours
Thy smoky blue and softened grey soothe te*.

ao7

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

What diamonds in a crown more brilliant shine
Than when the rays of winter's rising sim
Shoot forth their darts across the snowbound hills
And pale the glory of the waning stars ?

And in the crowded cities thou art, too,

A cheering guest, whether in mansion rare

Or humble workman's home, where are laid low

With sickness those to whom the cloak of night

Brings no repose ; who long to see the sun.

Or those whom horrid dreams have so'ely racked

To whom once more thou bringest p.. :. and cahn.

The lone night-watchman on his weary beat

Awaits thy coming that he may have rest.

And where Vice hideous stalks 'neath friendly dark,

And revelry and riot rule o'er all.

How joy'd doth Virtue greet the day again?

Where on the sacred page of Holy Writ

Are words indited loftier than those

By which the great Creator of the Spheres

Called thee to being? Aught more rich with hope

To fallen man, of promise more full-fraught.

Of truth more sure, of prophecy more clear,

aoB

TO MORNING

Than that glad sentence which th' Omnipotent
The heavens and earth create gave utterance to,
When, chaos brooding o'er the new-form'd deep,
He saw that it was good, that thou shouldst be,
And drove the Stygian gloom of night away
In that sublime decree, " Let there be Light."

xn.

O glorious mom of life! when Youth's desires

And hopes and struggles had not undergone

The disappointments of reality !

O morning of the year, when leaf and flower

Were still untouched by summer's withering heat.

Or blasted by the frosts of autumn's night.

O mom of nations, ere their rulers' hearts

Had felt the blight of a decadent age,

And they, like Athens, once were pure and free I

The dawn hath broken into garish day.

And, day far-spent, night's shadows round me fall

And naught remains of thee but memory's sigh.

xm.

Salute, ye sons of men, the new-bom rays
Of moming, breaking as they do the chain
Of darkness which hath cast her ebon folds
O'er dreamy Nature ! Hearken to the song

ao9

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Of birds with gladness, they that do prevent
The arrows of the dawn with melody
And pour their canticles athwart the sun.

nf^ia^ ""T *''** "^fh**^' 'Appier birth

Ske *i" 1"^'' i"*"'"'^ <="'"• -hoL «diant bean,

I«o fh h'I*" **'''"■ ■' P*"««tin? deep
Into the dark recesses of the world

And banishing the night of Ignorance!

XIV

And thou poor jaded toiler on Kfe's road'

Wiat if the piercing briers of To-dav

Do lacerate thy tired arms and feet

And, hindered by the rocks of Care and Fear

Thou comest to the River of To-night

Only to shudder at its deep and glo^m.

Be of good courage I o'er the Bridge of Sleep

To take thy hand and guide thy steps anew '
Bnght vsaged Mom! and in that JrdenT^V
The rose embower'd. To-morrow thou shalt r^st
Refreshed w.th all the odorous bloom of Ho^

Anctuler, October, tgu.

210

>i:

'.^'r

VENICE

VENICE.

Where Brenta cast up her alluvial sanSs
xn the dim centuries of long ago
She rose a child of pride and pomp and show
Outnvallmg all her other neightoring lands
And wealth and commerce fell into her h^ds
From subject cities. And to-day altho'

In Art Wh r"*'''' ''"r"' ""'^^ '^' ^^"keth low,
in Art s nch treasury she still commands ;

Bm m.d her golden domes, her carved facades.

I ^"ght m vam for verdant, spreading shades.

I listened, but upon mine ear there rang

Of horses hoofs no distant echoing clang

Nor sound of rumbling wheels, she hath not these

Because her paths are o'er th' untrodden seas.

yenice, March i6, igu.

ail

t ^1

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

I' (

ADVERSITY.
Composed at Sea.

GriJ^t ^"' '"^ "^"^^^ *»«* J°^ °f old

By i«ve^^,T^ """ eschewing evil,
m^MTtJZ"" l '""^'"^ °^ 'he devil.
H.S sheep are slain by angry fire of God ■
T^ ^ »^°'-1 his men and cameH^uri-^

And then to th.s extreme hun,iIiatK>n ^ ^•

Patiently bearing fire an^ri^ Z^ZorT^''
Blesses the name of Ws afflict.ng lITd

And, as affliction's devastating breath

In man, m nature, and in fable, we
May see the blessings of Adversity.

313

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

t i

ii :|

ADVERSITY

C(imfu,s,;i at Sea

In Holy Writ -fis taught that J„h of old

t.ratesto,p,en,w,thnchesn,;nifoM, '
Perfect and upnght an<i eschewing ev,

By heaven . ,,e,.ree is ,e,np,ed of the d'eWl
H,,...,i. .„n^ncafhtheS.V*anr..f

t-haldr,!., »,» , , ,,,. ,„,,, ,
Andthe... th,sex..e„.,...„^':!,f■«''^-
B ' >" .h,s sa.m, m,.! all this ,i„, correction

Blesses the name of his afflicting r.or<r

And, as affliction's devastating i,reath

Kefined Job shfe and added to h,sfa.th
'" man. in nature, and in fable we
A'uy see the blessings of Adver

i) ';

ADVERSITY

Look around, reader, and you'll find 'tis true;

Whatever theme or prospect you pursue.

If 'tis the forest or the ocean tide.

If 'tis the stream where leaves of autumn glide

The boy who plods with l-reless energy.

Or chastened martyr of mythology ;

If the proud ship which rides upon the storms.

If man's frail soul surrounded with alarms;

This lesson's taught, the way that's strewn with

thorns
The better and the higher life adorns.

The stately oak sprang not at once to sight.
To majesty and beauty in the light.
But many a storm-wind rudely sweeping o'er.
Bent its young branches in the days of yore. '
Stem was it press'd by many an autumn wind.
By Iightnmg's flash, by winter's frost unkind;
But all these foes but multiplied its strength,
And gave new vigor to its breath and length-
And thus we see it standing proud to-day,
Impervious to wind and rain's decay.
The monarch of the forest and the grove,
Pride of our land, and object of our love.
Strong in the sunlight of God's glorious earth
Made stronger by Adversity from birth

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

The surging tide which all around us we

In wonder gaze on o'er the moonlit sea,

Did not attain its fulness at a bound,

But slowly crept along the sloping g^und

The wave which would submerge th' opposing shore

Must first recede so it may add the more

To that vast effort hurl'd against the strand.

By which old Ocean claims the golden sand

The river flowing peaceful thro' the vale

Can also tell Adversity's stem tale,

Of hill and mountain obstacles o'ercome

By age of toil and struggle wearisome.

The law of nature and the law of life

Make all things smoother after years of strife.

The man who stands pre-eminent to-day,

Is not the boy who spent his youth in play.

Petted and pampered in his father's home

Allowed in wealth and indolence to roam ;

But he whom hardship made to slave and toil

Who early rose and struggling till'd the soil '

Devoid of luxury, deprived of cash,

Press'd on beneath misfortune's cruel lash.

Till, manhood reach'd, there dawned on him the

truth,
How good had been his struggling, toiling youth,

3l6

ADVERSITY

How easy 'twas to leave behind the man
Who, child of luxury, his life began.
The youthful toiler, victor in the end,
Has found Adversity his truest friend.

See the starved vultures round the vitals flock,
Of the chain'd Titan on Caucasus' rock ;
Death doubly welcome is to him denied
That he may be through age of torture tried.
Three thousand years of bitterest anguish roll
While awful pangs consume his stricken soul ;
Blistered each day with sun s tormenting rays,
And frosts of night worse than the fire of days,
At length by Hercules vouchsafed release.
How pure his joy, how exquisite his peace I
Who fainted not at Hell's relentless throes.
Who faltered not against o'erwhelming woes.
Thy joy, Prometheus, and thy victory
Were sweetened most by thine Adversity!

Our gallant ship will yonder by and by

Safe and serene from storm at anchor lie,

Tho' now through mountain seas she's heav'd and

toss'd,
StiU pressing onward toward the friendly coast.

317

MKIOCOrY nSOUITION TiSt CHA>T

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2|

J /IPPLIED ItVHGE Ini

K 1653 Eait Main Slrtat

'S Rochester. Naa Tork 14609 USA

ae (716) 482 - 0300 - Phono

gS (716) 2U- 59S9 - Fai

Lis

'V •'

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Sternly she battles 'gainst the billow's crest
are she reposes on the harbour's breast
And so on life's disturb'd and troubled sea
Storm-bound and toss'd, we meet Adversity;
But the firm soul who bravely struggles on,
bees dark and danger met and duty done,
Who patient bears calamity and grief,
Who founders not upon temptation's reef
Time s voyage o'er, with a serene delight
Rests on the bosom of the Infinite!

S. S. "Lake Ckomplain,"
June iS, 1911.

218

THE CATARACT OF LODORE

THE CATARACT OF LODORF,.

A Satire.

'Tis told that once from distant lands there came
To Windermere a visitor, whose name
I need not tell, but so the story ran,
He was a well-to-do Canadian
Who, having means and leisure, wish'd to see
Whatever things of interest there might be
Beyond the seas, and in those far-oflE climes
He'd heard and read of oft in tales and rhymes.
And, 'mong the rest, our traveller had been told
To visit Wordsworth's land — wild, rugged, bold,-
Its mountain peaks, its lovely tarns and rills.
Its mirror'd lakelets, gorges, fells and ghylls.
And so we're not surprised to find him here.
Gazing on all these charms round Windermere.

In youth our hero'd leam'd to improve his mind
In his spare moments with the arts refin'd.
And spite of many cares by business press'd,
Had chosen books and authors of the best ;

319

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Not only in the field of prose was he

A stroller, but in that of poetry.

And who, a student of the noble muse.

Could for one moment Southey's haunts refuse

To visit gladly or his poems ead

And of the sights therein de»:ribed take heed?

There's little cause for wonder then that he,

Fill'd with the sight-seer's curiosity.

Scanning the guidebooks of the district o'er,

Shoi^d ask the way to the far-famed Lodore.

Oft had our traveller in rapture stood
Above Niagara's stupendous flood.
Watched Yellowstone's majestic torrent leap
Down its abysmal heights to cavern deep;
In California's clime admiring he
Had heard the thunders of Yosemite;
Once on Superior's northern shores he saw
The cataract of Kaministiquia;
Entranced he'd gazed on iridescent ray
Of shining sun o'er Montmorenci's spray.
Seen all these glorious Western visions, free,
Uncheck'd by tolls, uncurs'd by any fee.
So, when at Lodore, block'd by toll-gate stand.
High were his hopes of sight sublimely grand.

The entrance paid, th' unsightly toll-gate pass'd,
To right, to left, in front, his eyes he cast —

aao

SHRINES OLD A\i' MiW

Not only m the fiel^i vf pn m- w.,, i,r
A stroller, but in that of pr^iry
And who, a .student uf the noble mi^.-
Onild for one moment Southev'- t-,-, nr^ ,-f.:sf
To V isit gladly or his poems read
And of the sights therein descrilwd tak-- h. e
There's little rause lor wonder tlien that he,
Fill'd with the sight-seer's curiosity,
.■^ -anring the guidelxioks of the district o'er,
hould ask the way to the fai-famed Lodore.

Oft had our traveller in rapture stood
Ahovr \i-,t;ar,i ■< ituiwnlMus ri ,.>,),
\Vatch.-,'i \ dlowM.iue < itt:|oIk. torrent leap
Down if< abysmal hei^his '.,enM-rr: ■!»«;.
In CjIii imia's dime admir.nt i--
T!ad heard the 'hunders .n Yos,-i,me.
Once on Supe. vjr'^ nortliciv, bJiort.- he saw
The catarac! of Kaministiquia,
Entranced he'd ga^ed on iridescent ray
Of shining sun o'er Montmorenci's spray,
Seen all these glorious Western visions, free,
Uncheck'd by tolls, uncurs'd by any fee.
So, when at Lodore, block'd by toll-gate st;uid,
High were his hopes of sight sublimely grand.

The entrance paid, th' unsightly toll-gate pass'd.
To right, to left, in front, his eyes he cast —

220

THE CATARACT OF LODORE

No sight nor sound of water falling still
The searcher thought he'd climb a rocky hill
Perchance the falls were on the other side, '
Where to the eastward Derwenfs slopes divide.
This height attained, he sat him down to rest.
And thmk which pathway now would be the best
While pond'nng thus, he saw a boy appear

Enough to hail, he to him eager calls :

Pray tell me, lad. the way to Lodore Falls!"
How think you, reader, felt our wanderer
At this reply : " You're sitting on them, Sir I"

Wmiermtrt, Aug. i, 1911.

333

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

LIVE CLIMBING.

r. a promising youth on attaining his majority.

Young man! you open on this day the page
Of he wh.ch calls you up to manhoodfaS
A«d leave wth pleasant .nemorie. on the mind

Yo^rTfK t"'' 1°^' °^ '='''''«'°«» "^l behind;
Your Fatther-s hopes, your Mother's praye'rs and

Which watched and followed you through bygone

oJi'thinr^' '^•'T '" y°" '^'y ^°"d'v see
On this the day of your majority

^.gns that give promise, like a well-tilled Hrfd
Of fruits that only noble lives can yield •
Virtue and honor, learning, rectitude. '

A Ih^v !f '!?""''^' "P'''^""« things pursued.
A kindly heart, a nature all refined,
A gentle manner and a cultured mind.

See that these gifts so excellent, so rare
Are nurtured, cultivated, reared with care,

334

LIVE CLIMBING

Be diligent in ai: things, bear ir mind
The best, if careless, soi- etimes fall behind ;
And he with lesser gifts out steadier pace
Oft overtakes the brilliant in life's race.
Strive faithfully no daily task to shirk,
For the night cometh when no man can work.
Avoid the pitfalls in life's pathway found.
Which lie before you scattered all around ;
The Spendthrift's folly and the Miser's greed.
The Slanderer's tongue, the base, ignoble deed,
The Atheist, who reason defies.
And God and future state alike denies.

'Neath one of Alpine peaks remote and vast

The traveler stops ere he the spot hath passed.

To gaze upon an unpretentious stone,

Standing as sentry in the pass alone •

He pauses thus, in pensive mood to read

The record there of an heroic deed.

How Youth, who, more ambitious thiin the rest

To reach the highest point of mountain's crest.

Venturing too far on treacherous ice and snow,

Met death in fathomless abyss below ;

But "'hat impressed the traveller the most.

Was .lot the epiiaph of the Youth lost.

Or dissertation on his virtues rare.

But the words " He Died Climbing " graven there.

235

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

'Twas glorious thus in mounting up to die,

Striving to reach the peak which pierced the sky.

And while time lasts th' engraving on that spar

Will charm the traveller from lands afar ;

But if 'twas grand and noble to die so,

O ifTcuth, take this thought to thyself, and know

That living, more than dying, you should climb.

And strive in all things for the heights sublime;

Make life one grand continuous ascent.

Let " He Lived Climbing " mark your monument;

And then, tho' highest place be not attained.

No mean nor poor position you'll have gained.

But looking back at set of evening sun.

Can contemplate a life of great things dune. '

Winnittg, April j, igii.

226

SHRINKS OI.O AV!> F\V

'Twas glori.;(is rlius in nioumi!!i; .). ,,, <1m^

Striving to rencli the [)eak whrc!. i ...^ i f|i Jcy.

And whilp time lasts th' enirravni^ ..n tt.j.; s,w

Will charm tht traveller from l.uv<|. .<;.,-,

Bui if 'twa.? grand and noble to ihc sf,,

O Youth, take this thought to thyselt, ;,..,i ti. -.v

That living, more than dying, you should climh,

And strive in all things for the heights sublime,

Make life one grand continuous ascent,

Let " lie Lived Climbing " mark your monument;

And then, tho highest place be not attai-^ed,

No mean nor poor ixjsition you'll have gained,

But IcK'kirit' ;>cick .11 .f. ;' evening ^un.

Can .-ortwriji.-.r- , i.ii. f v;.t.- .j, .,g^ rjore. '

226

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FLORENCE

FLORENCE.

City of Flowers! where the Amo winds
Bejewel'd 'mong the Apennines, thou art
Of all fair cities dearest to the heart

Of him who 'mid the world's confusion minds

Life's higher things. In thee the seeker finds
The deeds of masters of an early age,
And those whose genius lit a later page.

What never-ending streams of many kinds
Of knowledge fill the soul with ecstasy.

And make poor human hearts diviner grow
In that old capital of Tuscany I

Surely the thoughts of after-Ufe shall glow
Brighter with happy memories of thee.

The hcnne of Dante and of Angelo I

I r

Phrtnc*, March 26, 1912.

239

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

THE CANADIAN THERMOPYL^
(1660.)

plumed and paint^ wa^rr°or, we« ^".l^ '^T*'" '"'°<'««'
and OueliM- rmJj .u" f^. ?' Montreal, Three Riven

others, youthful like HimMlf-all nf M^^f "*•, *'"■ .»«««"
•ave their country, thoLXa^„,°li,"5'"^"!l-'«»'v«l to
made their wills, cinfeS rM?iv?rf Th,"* '" ""* ""■ They
a solemn farewell to S.^' /^ like m.?*"^"'.' *"<" '»•'«
to death. And so thev were N„t' „ "*" *^"« »" "arch
took their sund at UieL^n, «,„?,' "•«<'n>«l. alive. They
Ottawa. Soon the UlS^e host atS^'lJ^k"??"''?' o" »S

s;"e^#;fsrr?u5is™3„-S§'^^^^^^^^

who, though worn hv hTTnL? fi.-^'" ^ '" •"»»« defenders.

and'prayef a"„rwa?cheTfn't?;;i? "JoTr,",' ^'f^' '""^"^
arnved; and for three dav, wL ."o*""" 'emforcemenU

«vage, beleaguered the crumbHnrreSl W'"' '*':°?'»»
death of the last Frenchman wis fhirf2?L*°l °"'>' *'«'' the
But the colony was Mved Thl - dear-bought victory woa
Thermopyte of Canada "-E«rfi"»°' 'M,?^"* Sault was Se
History 'SfcS„adsJ»p°''g;^*'"« f™" Withrow and Adams'

The Indian hordes were closing round •
Dai-k clouds of gloom hung o'er the land,

Seointy could scarce be found
For priest or mission band:

330

THE CANADIAN THERMOPYL^

In forest paths, on river streams,

At night weird sounds disturbed men's dreams;

The Iroquois appeared.
And scalped and slaughtered one and all
On well-tilled field, at convent wall ;
Their presence fell like awful pall ;

Even the bravest feared.

And now they circle Ville Marie,
Fair embryo city of New France,

And men ; ear-stricken, hear and see
The war-whoop and the dance.

And on Quebec's grey mantled walls,

At set of sun there also falls

The hideous war-chief's yell.

Belts filled with scalps— this ghastly sight

Oft met the children in their flight.

To escape the savage ere the night
To hide the slaughter fell.

" Who shall our loved ones help and save?

Who can oir homes and hearths defend?
Who is there bold enough and brave

To ward off such an end?"
As nearer crept the red man dread.
This was the prayer the people said.
With cry and piteous groan.

231

I.ii

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

" Twelve hundred warriors on their way,
Painted and plumed in war's array,
To scalp, to torture and to slay.
And we are left alone I"

While brave men feared and cowered low;

While those entrusted to command.
Dreading the deadly Indian blow.

In terror left the land.
Braver than aU stood forth to view.
Gallant DaMac des Ormeaux,

Of France's noble blood.
" Tho' we be numbered with the dead
Who will go up with me," he said,
" And face the tomahawk and lead,

And stem the savage flood?

"Who will go up?" This was his call.

" Our homes to save, our lives to give;
Tho' every one of us shall fall,

We'll die that ours shall live."
And sixteen youths as brave as he.
The flower and pride of Ville Marie,

Hearkened to Daulac's voice
And bidding dear ones sad adieu,
They with a friendly Huron few
Set forth for that which eacii one knew
Lei* death their only choice.

233

THE CANADIAN THERMOPYLAE

Up broad St. Lawrence's wooded shores,
Across Two Mountains' widening lake,

Where Ottawa's swift current roars
At Long Sault halt they malce.

Behind tree trunks tossed up before

By Indians of a former war.

Concealed from view they stand.

Resolved that none shall pass them by,

Prepared to hold their ground or die.

The Indian warriors to defy.

And all their murderous band.

They came, the mighty Indian foe.

And fought and stormed till Daulac saw

Piled up around, above, below,
Dead heaps of Iroquois.

But one by one these brave youths fell.

Till only five remained to tell
The tale of carnage red.

Then Indians, climbing o'er their slain.

At length the rude enclosurj gain

With maddening fury in their train.
And torture in their tread.

Daulac was slain and his brave men ;

But peace for Ville Marie was won.
And old Quebec saw rest again.

And calm at set of sun.

" 233

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

The savage tribes a lesson learned;
Courage and bravery had turned

Their hatred to respect.
Hundreds had fallen to a few;
Back to their forest homes they drew,
No wish the conflict to renew,

Their warlike ardor checked.

While poets sing of Abraham's Plain;

Of Brock who met a hero's doom;
While history tells of Lundy's Lane,

And lauds the patriot's tomb.
You chose the deathless martyr's part,
And nurtured deep in country's heart,

Daulac of noble name,
Who hunger, death and torture braved
For homes and wives and children saved.
Your name shines ever bright, engraved
High on the scroll of fame.

Winniptg, July, 1910.

334

TWO NAMES AT ETON

TWO NAMES AT ETON.

In scanning o'er the list of names,
Carved on old Eton's walls,

There two who everlasting fame's
Proud honor roll recalls.

I saw great Pitt engraven there
By embryo statesman's hand,

Small and ill-cut the letters were.
And poor, and rudely planned.

Then Shelley's name high up was cut,
In letters broad and large,

Above the rest his own he'd put.
Upon the oaken marge.

And thus I pondered as I read,
Did these illustrious men,

As o'er the oak their blades they led.
Foresee their future then?

Did Pitt, the boy at Eton school,
As moved his keen-edged knife.

Feel that a nation he'd control
'Mid continental strife?

235

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

Or with prophetic vision see,
Standing with blade in hand,

His name cut deep in destiny
An Empire to command ?

Did Shelley, tracing broad and deep

His yet unspoken name.
Know that he'd climb by sudden leap

To poet's deathless fame?

Or that, inscribed on Britain's scroll.
His name should honor'd be.

Ere wave engulf d his warbling soul
On far Italian sea?

O British lad ! in life's career

You may not be a Pitt
Or Shelley, but your character!

How are you forming it ?

You're carving with each act of youth

For honor or disgrace ;
Engrave it deep in right and truth

That time may not efface.

Bton College, Bucks,

October J, /p;/.

236

ON THE DEATH -^F LABOUCHERE.

ON THE DEATH OF LABOUCHERE.

Henry Labouchere, Bom 1831. Died at Florence,
January i6th, i^ii.

One of the gifts of heaven— a green old age
Was granted thee, and now, a Florentine,
Thou hast drunk there the last of life's sweet wine,

t\c from that land where thro' thy flouting page

Thou hadst encountered venom, scorn and rage.
Far from tho';e scenes where 'neath thy firm con-
trol
" Truth" was the mirror of thy jeering soul.

The mouthpiece of thy mocking persiflage.

O English journalist and tribune great!
Critic, Stage Manager and Diplomat I
In birth tho' not in life aristocrat.
A cleaner Britain we may owe to thee,

Altho' in thy last years expatriate

Thou mad'st thy home 'neath skies of Italy.

Hyhrts, Frmct, January x, igi2.

•At

237

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

NAPOLEON'S TOMB.

In ihadow'd Dome of a Parisian pile,
The spandrei'd Invalides, I saw beneath
A Tomb encircled by a laurel wreath
Worked in mosaic. From Helena's isle
Had come the dust of him who for a while
Had ruled the nations, whose com ling breath
Had sent forth pillage, devastatiot. .ath.
But he had died a poor, forlorn exile :
O Peerless CorsicanI Thy rise, thy fa ,
Thy genius ruling for a space the world,
"Thine end — a prisoner on a foreign strand.
All point a moral to the great, the small :

Who climbs too ''•gh to lowest depth is hurl'd.
Unchecked Ambition rests on shifting sand.

Paris, Dtc. I, 1911.

338

"jf ^'"'^

-n

' 1

Worked in mosatc

I.inrt ( wrcatli

it.t' p-i^e .•(•♦.»

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

NAPOLEON'S TOMB.

In shadow'd Dome of a Parisian pile,
The spandrel'ii Iiivalidcs, I saw beneath
A Tomb e'Jcirr'rd by a laurel wreath
Worked in mosaic. From Helena's isle
Had come the dust of him who for a while

Ha<i luleu ine natioiiv. ,vhose c:)iiiiiiandin(; breath
iia! M-iit t Ttli p''la(Te. 'kn.iM.ii. >;', 'itath
But he had dieii a p<xir. iorlnni exii»:
O PeetiF'w C)rsicanl Thy rise, thy tall,
Tli\ K^nius ruling toi ,i <ri.i •■ -'v w " '
Thine eml— a prisorifi i.. < niiji, < i.-iud.
All point a tnoral to the great, the small :

Who climbs too high to lowest depth is hurl'd,
UuLheckei! .\mbition rests on shifting sand.

Paris, Dec

238

" I saw beneath

A tomb encircled by a laurel wreath,
Worked in mosaic "

(See page 238.)

f? I

WESTMINSTER ABBEY

WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

AVTien worldy pleasure satiates, and palls
The noise and turmoil of the outer life,
The din of commerce, and the sound of strife
Thy solemn grandeur draws me to thy walls,
Thy wond'rous history inspiring calls.
Here I may contemplative learn to trace
The by-gone splendor of our glorious race-
As gently o'er each marble bust there falls '
Thme ancient windows' soft illumininf ^
Whose time is o'er, but all that fame can give
Is theirs— tho' dead thou makest them to live
Ihe consecration of *hy cloister brings
A sweeter rest to 1 jes, bards, and kings
Time's conqueror 1 and fame's restorative!

Loudon, Eng., Stpi. m, 1911.

241

(1^

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

,1:

i;;

THE WATER LILY.

I saw a water lily in her waxen dress
Of virgin white unsullied loveliness,
Serenely floating near a river bank.
Beneath were sedge and ooze decay'd and dank,
And tangled niass of rush and root and weed.
Where slimy reptiles live and creep and feed.
Alas! I thought, in what ill-fitting place
Doth the fair lily waste such queenly grace.
As, circled by her leaves of green and brown
She threw the mirror'd shadow of her many-petal'd
crown.

But thus the gentle spirit, on life's marge serene
Mayhap unknown, and oft, perchance, unseen,
Long fettered by base hindrances like these
Blooms out above the world's impurities.
From weeds of self, from tangles of desire,
From brackish waers and the loathsome mire,
Where nature rooted it, and once 'tis freed
From mire and tangle and the reptile greed
Around and 'neath, where'er its graces shine
It casts the perfect shadow of an influence divine.

Washago, Aug. iS, 19U.

243

SOCIAL AMBITION

i ■**-

SOCIAL AMBITION.

Why, O luring candle bright,
Strive we for thy false delight,
Straining heart and brain and soul
To attain thy glittering goal ?

In a night, or in a day,
All thy charm will pass away.
Like a leaf upon the stream.
Like some poet's fleeting dream.

Let us aim at something higher.
To some nobler thought aspire';
Something real that will last,
When thou, transient joy, art past.

All around our visions greet
Lives beclouded, wearied feet
Waiting for the mists to clear.
Longing for the word to cheer.

Let us soothe some stricken heart.
To some burdened one impart
Courage on life's thorny way;
These shall conquer Time's decay.
Winnipeg, June 3. 1912.

243

M ,

SI'

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

HUMILITY.

Who are the truly great?
Is he the greatest who from field afar
Hath come a conqueror in despoiling war?
He who in gain his fellows hath outclass'd.
And gold his only thought, hath wealth amass'd,
Or he whom hand of genius, guiding, kind.
To all else but the lust of power blind

Hath ruled a party or controU'd a state?

Oh, no ! far greater he.
Where'er his feet have led, whate'er his lot.
If fame or fortune smiled, hath not forgot
How small the greatest are, and taken heed
Of this life's little things; whose every deed
Hath shed some brightness o'er the path he trod ;
Who, taught by Nature, and by Nature's God,
Hath learned the lesson of Humility.

Hyires, Jan. 8, 1912.

344

CHARirv

CHARITY.

The silver trumpet tongues of men

And of the angels fair,
Are naught to me if Charity

Be not enkindled there.
Like tinkling cymbals' echo,

Like din of sounding brass.
The loveless deeds of empty creeds

Shall wither as the grass.

And what tho' I be rich endow'd

With the prophetic gift.
And such supply of faith that I

Could the vast mountains lift.
All mystery and knowledge

Be subject to my will.
And yet do move devoid of love.

Then am I nothing still.

345

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

And tho' I lavish all I have

To give the needy fcxjd,
And tho' my frame by conquering flame

To ashes be subdued.
It profiteth me nothing

Unless I fully find
That priceless thing long suffering,

Unenvying and kind.

That is not puffed up with pride

Nor prone to idle vaunt.
That seeketh not her own, begot

Of no unseemly flaunt.
Not easily provoked to wrath,

That maketh truth her choice,
That thinks no sin, that doth not in

Iniquity rejoice.

Bearing, believing, hoping all.

Enduring everything.
She never fails, m drought assails

Her pure perennial spring.
Tho' prophecies and tongues shall cease

And knowledge fade away.
Her kindly light glows ever bright

Shining to perfect day.

246

shrim:s old and new

Ami tho' I lavish all [ linve

Tu give the needy fij<..l
And tlu)' my frame by conjurniiK fl.itue

To ashes lie suhdued.
It pruliteth me nothing

Unless I fully find
That priceless thing long suffering,

Unenvying and kind.

Th.it is not puffed np with pride

Xo^ prone to idle vaunt,
That secketh not her own, begot

Of no utiseenily flaunt.
\ot fa.^dy pr, . ^t-d t. yxM

That makefl; rruth her .hohiv
That 'liiiiks I... f>n, '.hit dotK rioi m

Inii|nity ri-ioi.c

Be.iritijj, lielicving, hoping all.

Enduring ever)thing.
She never tails, no drought assails

Her pure perennial spring.
TIkj' iirophfcies .md tongues sl.;dl cease

And knowledge fade away.
Her kindly light glow- ever bright

Shining to [Krt'ect d.ny

246

N ^

\4i

CHARITY

And when that which is perfect comes,

The part shall be dispersed
Of knowledge and of prophecy,

For we are children first;
Spoke, understood, and thought as such.

But, grown to man's estate,
All childish things on fleeting wings

Fade and disintegrate.

Now, darkly, thro' a glass we see.

And mists our view displace,
Then poor mankind, no longer blind.

Shall behold face to face.
Now knowledge only doth unroll

In part her golden zone.
Then high and low each one shall know

Even as they are known.

While firm the cross of Faith abides,

While Hope's strong anchor holds.
And each to man its glorious plan

Of saving grace unfolds;
Yet far the greatest and the best

Of these fair graces three.
That fount of love drawn from above

The heart of Charity!

Ancasitr, August, I9u.

249

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

THE CHILD AND THE MOTOR.

On hearing that a child had been killed by a motor
in a country lane in Buckinghamshire.

A Iitt]e life crushed out,

A happy family wrecked.
The country-side is stirred!
The funeral dirge is heard.
A quiet home is wrapped in gloom

That wealth may go unchecked
In riot and in rout.

Seven short unclouded years

Were all vouchsafed to thee.
And then the fates deny
That thou shouldst peaceful die,
A rumbling sound, a mortal wound.

And then the agony
Of mother's scalding tears.

350

THE C IILD AND THE MOTOR

'^lij- ;;fc-;Jood ebbs away

Dfar little ctiild! and you
,ieid up you:: gentle soul,

j'. ■' Jc'.h's sad knell must toll

In order that the plutocrat
May ruthlessly pursue

His lordly holiday!

v«-

England, tell me! ought
Thy vaunted equal laws
'Tween man and man, ordain
That shady country lane
Where children play, be given away

To sate the greedy maws
Of modem Juggernaut?

BltUMey, Bucks,

July 11, igti.

.1
\

'A
1

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

THE POETS' CORNER.
In Westminster Abbey.

O hallow'd place! Here are our bards at rest;

And, as my feet wind 'mong thy pedestals,

A thought surpassing sweet the spot recalls.
Not England's sons alone, we of the West
Are too by thy divine aroma blest.

And share th' influence shrined within thy walls;

These lives, these tombs, these carv'd memorials,
By us are honor'd, worshipp'd, and caress'd
And every '^row-encircl'd laureate

Whose mortal clay hath mingled with thy dead.
From Chaucer, glorious and of ancient date.

To Tennyson, so well belov'd and read :
O'er the whole world doth each disseminate

The fragrance with which thou'rt environed.

London, Eng., Oct. i}, igii.

2sa

HENRY LABOUCHERE

HENRY LABOUCHERE.

Great Commoner! how many gifts were thine!

Thy part well played in days gone by. Time was

When many eyes were fixed on thee because
Though nobly founded thine ancestral line*
Thou wert the foe of jingoed discipline ;

Preferring rather to uphold the cause

Which did not win thy countrymen's applause,
The one against the ninety and the nine.
And yet how oft Northampton's trusty men

Made thee their choice. How often didst thou
dare
The fr ,. the usurer, and th^ swindler's den,

In t'.' " itless page expose and bare.
But nov ,.iii!> far-off tomb Tuscanian

Is made thy resting-place; O Labouchere !

Florence, March, igi^.
* The head of the Labouchere family is Baron Taunton.

aS3.

SHRINES OLD AND NEW

HARDSHIP.

Thou school in which the greatest minds are taught,
Those pupils of the master. Circumstance,
Offsprings of Destiny and of favoring Chance,

Say I in our lives is anything for naught?

Rather is not the path to greatness f rau^t
With suffering from thy all-pervading glance?
And Triumph I maid so dilatory, askance

Is she, forsooth, not through thy channels brought?

Did not those bars which Bunyan's frame confined
Refine, and make his soul a greater soul.
To help men's hopes up to a loftier height ?

Did Lincoln not in cabin, low outlined,
Learn well the rugged task of self-control.
And how to conquer ills, and grasp the infinite?

Wmnipfg. lunt i, tgu.

aS4

)

SHRINES OLD A.\D NEW

HARDSHIP.

Thou school in which the grentest minds are taught,
Those pupils of the master, Cirrumstance,
Offsprings of Destiny and of favoring Chance,

Say! in our Mves is anything for naught?

I^atlier is not the path to greatticss fraught
With suffering from thy all-pervading glance?
Aiifl Triumph* n!,iiii -^o rlil;,t(^r\. a-kmce

Is she, for.Mrt.th, noi through thy channels brought?

Did not those bars whi -r P-n-ivnn' f ., ; . ', ...itiiicil
Rcfme, and ma!.- hi, ,..■,; , ,■_ •■.tu: >.,ijl.
To help tiien ■■ h. ..«-s up to a loffrr height ?

Did Lincoln not in cabin, low outhned,
Le.irn we'l the nigged task of self-control.

And iiow to conquer ills, and grasp the infinite?

H'inntpfg, June I, li^is.

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CHATTERTON

CHATTERTON.

Thomu Chatterton, England's child poet, wai born at Bris-
tol (posthumously) in 1752, of humble parentage, and early
gave evidence of great precocity of mind. The production, at
twelve years of age. of the medixval Rowley poems (now
admitted to have beei? composed by himself), his intimatr
knowledge of the long-passed romantic period in English
verse, and the intensity of his imaginative power, have al-
ways been regarded as the most remarKable display of early
genius in England's literary annals. Overwhelmed by accusa-
tions of forgery, and in destitution, obscurity and despair, this
gifted youth ended his life by poison in London, in August,
i;70.

Unhappy boy ! thy ruthless fate
Did more than amply expiate

Thy but imputed crime!
What pangs of disappointed hope
Made thee a morbid misanthrope

In youth's bright morning time?

257

SHRINES OLD AND NEW
II.

Only when death, ere manhood's years
Had granted thee surcease from tears,

Were found, alas! too late,
Thy budding talent, mock'd, despised.
Thy genius all unrecognized,

Hope crushed 'neath sorrow's weight I

Why wert thou left to pine and brood
And walk in mental solitude.

When soi:ie befriending hand
Had helped thee in thy sore distre- \
Had taught thee, lone, companionless,

The ills of life to stand?

IV.

Where else hath childhood deeper wrought ?
Who hath evolved more mellow'd thought

Than that which sprang from thee?
And tho' the gathering floods of scorn
Early o'erwhelmed thee, thou wert bom

To immortality!

Bristol, Stpt. 13, 1911.

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